


Blood Red Iron

by bafflinghaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Angry Sex, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Blood, Blood Magic, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Injured Draco Malfoy (many many times), Light Dom Draco dynamics, M/M, No Top/Bottom, Some Magical Theory, Somewhat Outcast Draco, feat. BAMF Narcissa Malfoy, multiple case fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-02-09 04:46:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18631108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: It was an open secret in the Auror department of who was best at Missing Persons. Draco Malfoy.And it was an open secret at how he did it: an item belonging the missing person, a knife, and blood magic—With his own blood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by [WeasleyWench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeasleyWench). Any remaining errors are my own.

Harry was walking down one of the DMLE corridors when he saw _him_ again. There was an immediate spike of annoyance, but Harry tried to take the higher ground and be _polite_ ; so he nodded in greeting and said, “Afternoon.”

Malfoy was dressed in the same official red Auror robes as Harry, except his robes were neat and smooth and _perfect_ , falling over defined shoulders and flaring out as he walked. Malfoy’s chin tilted up a fraction, eyes looking _down_ at Harry in a glance before he strode right past.

Anger bubbled in Harry’s gut. He glanced back and scowled. Merlin forbid Malfoy be _polite_. With that attitude, there was no point in inviting Malfoy to the Auror pub night later on.

Malfoy walked around and looked as though he was doing _them_ a favour—and Harry hated how it was _almost_ true. _Just_ almost true. After the war, the Auror ranks had been severely depleted—and they had let in just about everyone who applied.

Harry wished they hadn’t. Aurors needed to be decent, and Malfoy was everything _but_. Malfoy hadn’t the decency to thank Harry for the testimony at his war trial, acting as though the war was bygone when its mark lasted to this day.

But Harry wasn’t a child. He _knew_ that there was black and white, and all the shades of grey in-between. He knew that, despite high ideals, the reality of the Auror department law enforcement was muddy, with shady characters and occasional dirty dealings. Malfoy infuriated him, and so he did the _clever_ thing and avoided him. For Harry had never had the misfortune of having to work with Malfoy.

*

For the second time in Harry’s career as an Auror, a Missing-Persons case landed on his desk.

Harry grimaced.

His first experience had been a fucking mess of drawn-out investigation. It had taken him far longer than any of the other Aurors and caused him to miss the assignment onto a big raid. The other Aurors had thought him odd, _foolish_ , for going about it the way he did. And they kept telling him, with winks, or wriggling eyebrows, or a sly glance away:

“ _You know who’s the best in the department for_ this _kind of thing, don’t you?”_ And they would lean in, telling him the secret: “ _Malfoy.”_

Malfoy, who had never had a failure. Never even had a _near_ failure, if gossip was taken seriously.

But it was also an open secret _how_ Malfoy achieved his perfect success rate. An item belonging to the missing person, and—

—and _blood magic_.

Harry pulled a face.

Malfoy was fucking grey mud: he used blood magic, and _no one_ had taken him in for it, even letting him stay an Auror. _Everyone_ else called Malfoy in when they needed to find someone. No one had arrested Malfoy.

Malfoy’s lofty expression flashed in Harry’s mind, and he scowled. _Well, if Malfoy thinks he’s doing us a favour, then he better do that favour_. Harry reached for a fresh memo parchment to summon Malfoy.

Malfoy arrived barely a minute later, hair neat and robes pressed. He didn't look at Harry, instead holding out an imperious hand.

Harry looked at it, and then at Malfoy. “What?” he barked.

“The case,” Malfoy said blandly. The corner of his lips raised...in a smirk.

Scowling, angry at himself and even more so at Malfoy, Harry tossed the slim file at Malfoy’s face. Malfoy caught it with his damn reflexes and began flipping through the papers.

Harry folded his arms to wait, but Malfoy had closed the file, slapping it back down on Harry’s desk a moment later.

“Let’s go.”

Harry lurched to his feet. “What? Did you even _read_ it?”

“The pertinent details,” Malfoy said. “Please don’t assume that _I_ would read at _your_ pace.” He went to the door of Harry’s office and glanced over his shoulder. “Coming?”

“ _Fine_ ,” Harry snapped. He nudged Malfoy aside and took the lead to the DMLE floos.

The two of them flooed out to the West Country DMLE outpost, and from there, Harry apparated them both to the location: a semi-detached house belonging to the person who had put in the missing person report.

Harry eyed Malfoy. “I’m talking, understood?”

Malfoy shrugged. “It’s _your_ case.”

“Right.” Harry squared his jaw and knocked on the door.

A witch opened the door, and her eyes widened. “Auror Potter! I’m so _glad_. With your help, Roger will be found in no time, God bless!”

Harry nodded. “Yes, ma’am. We would like to hear what you remember of his last location.” And steeled himself for the next words: “And if you don’t mind if we have a look in Roger’s room? We need to borrow something of his, as part of the Auror investigation.”

The witch smiled, none-the-wiser. “Of course, Auror Potter!”

*

Harry waited until they left the house to hand Malfoy the item: a book, that had been on Roger Witman’s desk, and that Malfoy had pointed out to Harry to take.

“Wouldn’t some of Roger’s _clothes_ be better?” Harry said. “DNA and all that—”

Malfoy ignored Harry, striding down the street with book in hand.

“What are you doing _now?_ ” Harry called out, following him down the street. Malfoy stopped between a tree and a high wall, and the moment Harry came within a few metres, Malfoy cast a privacy charm around them and let the book float in the air.

Then Malfoy drew a knife.

Harry’s wand was in his hand without conscious thought, eyes narrowing. “Malfoy?”

“A _moment_ ,” Malfoy said. He pulled back a sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. And in one smooth motion, slashed it.

Harry swayed back.

Blood welled immediately, bright red against the grey and pale of Malfoy’s arm. Malfoy started chanting in a low voice in a language that Harry didn't recognise. Blood started to _gush_ , streaming out deep red to form a spell circle, ringed with runes, around the book.

Harry flinched as magic prickled across his skin. Flinched again when it pulsed out.

Malfoy let the book and spell circle hang in mid air as he cleaned his knife, put it away, and spelled his wound close.

“He’s nearby.”

Harry squinted at the spell circle, but it didn’t look any different. “How do you know that?”

Malfoy gave him a withering look. With the book in his hand, Malfoy started down the street.

Harry suppressed a groan and hurried after Malfoy’s long, quick steps.

 _Bet that no-one_ ever _wants Malfoy on their team_ , Harry thought. _They should just give the Missing-Person cases straight to Malfoy, rather than expecting us to work unofficially with the fucking prat_.

Harry was breathing heavily by the time Malfoy stopped outside a nondescript semi-detached, not _nearby_ at all from their first location. Meanwhile, Malfoy had the nerve to look unruffled. He must have had special charms to wick sweat and keep him cool and keep his hair in place. _Gay_ , a part of Harry’s brain jeered. _The kind that gives everyone_ else _a bad rep._

“Is this it?” Harry asked tersely.

Malfoy stepped aside and motioned Harry forward. Harry stood taller, broadening his shoulders and knocked on the door.

A young man opened it. His eyes widened. “Er, good afternoon, Aurors.”

“We’re here about Mr. Roger Witman,” Harry said.

The man’s lips thinned, and he shook his head. “I haven’t seen him lately.”

Harry glanced at Malfoy.

Malfoy had a bored expression on his face.

It was an open secret that Malfoy was the best at finding missing people. And if Harry trusted Malfoy’s work (which he didn’t _want_ to), then that meant the young man was lying.

Harry leaned forward. “I’m afraid his mother is missing him quite dearly.”

The young man scowled. “ _Her?_ ”

Harry was taken aback. “Pardon?”

“No offence, Aurors, but Roger’s mother only cares for her _perfect_ little son.”

“Whatever the case may be, I’ve been assigned to find Roger,” Harry said.

The young man shook his head.

Malfoy sighed. He stepped past Harry—shoved him in the process—and handed the young man the book.

“Please forgive my fellow Auror,” Malfoy said. “Please give this to Roger...if you see him. It’s his favourite book.” Malfoy’s voice dropped in volume. “And if you see Roger, tell him to send a letter to his mother. The Owl Office can send anonymised notes.”

The young man ducked his head. “Understood, Auror,” he mumbled.

Malfoy gave the young man a smile that had Harry wondering if he had been hit by a spell.

“Have a good day,” Malfoy said.

And Merlin’s fucking beard, the young man _returned_ the smile before he closed the door.

Malfoy rolled back his shoulders and turned to Harry. “Close the case,” he said, before turning on his heel and heading back out onto the street.

Harry lunged forward and grabbed Malfoy’s arm. “ _What_ now?” he growled.

“Roger is not _missing_ ,” Malfoy said, snorting. “Open your damned _eyes_ , Field Auror Potter.”

Harry yanked Malfoy closer, arm pressed against arm. “Given that I didn’t see Roger Witman with my own eyes, I can’t just _close the case_.”

Malfoy sneered at him. “You should know better than to trust your _eyes,_ ” he hissed, yanking his arm back. He drew out his wand and turned on the spot—

—Harry grabbed his arm again, wincing at the squeeze of apparition. The moment they landed, Malfoy grabbed him and pushed him, hard. Harry’s arms flailed, back of his knees hitting something soft, and he fell back onto a sofa.

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” Harry glared. “Where are we?”

Malfoy gave him an unimpressed look. “Jump on others’ apparation often?” He raised a hand to summon a red potion. “This is my _flat_ , Potter.”

Harry scanned around the space: he was in the lounge portion of the room; just behind him was the kitchen area. _Small flat for the heir of the Malfoy vaults_. He shook his head when he realised Malfoy was trying to throw him off. “What the fuck _happened_ back there? Where is Roger Witman? You just gave a random wizard his book!”

“Perhaps the rumours were false,” Malfoy muttered under his breath.

“ _What rumours?!_ ”

“I will assume you are clueless,” Malfoy drawled. “While you were speaking with Roger’s mother, I examined his bedroom. He had hidden a number of queer paraphernalia. That book was one of them, with a false cover. Meanwhile, the house of Ms. Witman contained a number of religious items consistent with a monolithic deity. I presume she’s a muggleborn—”

“So _what?_ ” Harry snapped, stepping up into Malfoy’s space, forcing him to take a step back.

“Like many other queer muggleborn and halfblood youth, Roger has run away.” Malfoy said pointedly. “To his _friend_.”

Harry stared at him. “So he _lied_ to Aurors?” Harry narrowed his eyes. “Wait. That wizard. That was Roger’s _boyfriend_?”

Malfoy smirked. “Give the man a _prize_.”

“And how do you know that? How can you be _sure?_ ” Harry stepped closer. “And _what_ rumour?”

A sneer floated on Malfoy’s lips. “It takes one to know one,” he said. “And _rumours_ were that you, Potter, was the bi-who-lived. But clearly _not_.”

Harry grabbed Malfoy’s robes, twisting them in hand. “I _am_ ,” he growled.

Malfoy’s eyes darkened. “Are you really? Or perhaps you don’t realise that muggles are _not_ all good.”

Harry gave him an incredulous look. “Fucking hell, Malfoy, I _grew up_ with three shit muggles! And _you_ don’t get to say whether or not I’m gay. So, what, I’m not a fucking _poof_ like you? I’m surprised you don’t _paint your nails!_ ”

Malfoy tilted his head. “Would you be...more attracted to me if I did so?”

Harry saw fucking _red_ and shoved Malfoy against the wall. Malfoy snarled, tackling Harry to the ground. A beat later, Harry had _Malfoy_ pressed to the ground. He moved to pull Malfoy’s arms back, when Malfoy twisted out of his hold, slamming Harry’s wrists into the rug, and used his heavy weight to push Harry’s lower body to the ground.

He was damn angry. _Harry_ was the better Auror than Malfoy. He should be able to beat Malfoy to the fucking _dust_. They rolled, Harry on top—and then, Malfoy had him pinned to the floor. Harry twisted, trying to push Malfoy _off_ —

—a twist of _pleasure_ shot out from his cock. Harry shifted again, and this time he realised that _Malfoy was hard too_.

“Heh,” Harry said. “You get off on _violence?_ I should have expected that from you, _Malfoy_.”

Malfoy squeezed Harry’s wrists, head lowering. “Takes one to know one,” he growled. His eyelids dropped as a smirk played upon his lips. “Is this when you run away?”

Harry held Malfoy’s look as he purposefully tilted up his hips. “ _You_ caused this. So _deal_ with it.”

“You took _my_ words out of my mouth, Potter. You should be _punished_ for that.”

Harry hardened further despite himself.

Malfoy licked his lips. “Next time,” he murmured, voice laden with promise.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, and Malfoy kissed him.

Harry’s lips came alight in _heat_ and _wet_ and _tingling_ , which was definitely better than arguing with Malfoy. Malfoy ground down on him, folds and folds of fabric separating them. But in between Malfoy’s heavy kisses, Malfoy’s heavy weight pressing him _down_ , taking _control_ —

 _Fuck_. Harry clenched his eyes shut. His mouth opened as pleasure spiralled, unable to kiss back as his entire mind focused on his cock. It was swelling, surely, balls drawing tight, a constant _rub_ —

“ _Come_ ,” Malfoy growled, hot breath across Harry’s cheek.

Harry moaned, pushing his hips up to meet Malfoy’s in an animalistic _rut_ —

He gasped, groaned, long, as his cock pulsed hot and wet and sticky inside his clothes. “ _Oh shit_ ,” Harry breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his breath.

Malfoy stiffened. “ _Fuck you_ ,” he said, voice strained and tight. A beat later, his body slumped down, head tucked to the side of Harry’s. “ _Fuck you_ ,” he repeated.

Harry blinked. _What the fuck did I just_ do? He shoved Malfoy off and stood up, grimacing at the feel of come in his pants. _Fuck_ , he came like a fucking randy _teenager_. He waved a cleaning spell around himself. His lips, however, felt hot red and bitten.

Malfoy rolled to his feet. His waved his wand around himself, and his robes straightened, and hair shone.

Harry snorted. “No _wonder_.”

Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry, a playful smirk on his lips. Harry had no time to dodge before Malfoy’s grooming spell hit him. Harry’s skin tingled, feeling _fresh_ and _clean_ , and his clothes all unwrinkled, and his glasses became _clear_. Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed in relief. It was just as messy as he liked it.

Then he remembered to glare at Malfoy. “You were trying to make me forget!” Harry stepped to the floo. “We _still_ haven’t found Roger Witman.”

Malfoy’s face darkened, his body becoming rigid. “Roger is safer than he was before,” he said coldly. “Trust me. Or not. Go back there yourself. This was never _truly_ my case.”

Harry run a frustrated hand through his hair. “ _Oh_ , I know.” He glared at Malfoy one more time, and used Malfoy’s floo to get back to the West Country DMLE outpost.

*

It was the end of the day by the time Harry stepped back into his office.

He had gone round questioning other people in Roger Witman’s local community and other friends, and rounded back to the home of Ms. Witman, only to find that she had just received a letter from her son.

And so Harry had returned to the home of Roger Witman’s _boyfriend_ , barged in, and found Roger Witman himself preparing dinner in the kitchen. Who, after sharp questioning from Harry, was fine, and there on his own free will, and had indeed ran away.

Malfoy had been _right_.

And Harry fucking _hated_ it.

 _Doesn’t matter_ , Harry told himself, over and over. The _important_ part was that the case was solved. Now he had to write the fucking _report_. He chucked his robes at the corner of his office and procrastinated to the tearoom. It was a small mercy that he didn’t see Malfoy on his way there—assuming Malfoy returned to work at all after their _thing_.

The tearoom was almost empty, apart from Terry Boot who was sipping his coffee. He half-raised a hand in greeting. “Hey.”

Harry nodded back.

Boot grinned. “Hey, saw you finally working with Malfoy. Fast, right? Missing Persons is such a _bore_.”

Harry stiffened. “Not _really_ ,” Harry said, lips pulled into a grimace. “I had to check on things after. May as well _not_ have Malfoy.”

Boot frowned. “Really? Huh. I had him out with me just half an hour ago. Seemed to be working fine.”

“Good for you,” Harry muttered. “Got to write the paperwork up, so, see you.”

Harry resolved not to mention _anything_ of Malfoy in the report. Not only was Malfoy’s involvement _unofficial_ , but Harry had done the proper search himself _anyway_.

Malfoy was a fucking waste of time and space. And that _thing_ between them—that should have _never_ happened.

*

Draco downed a second blood replenisher the moment he returned to his flat after Boot’s case. Ignoring where he and Potter had tussled just a few hours earlier. He sent the empty potion vial flying back to his home laboratory, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to brew more blood replenishers, and to buy red meat and blood tofu.

Worst yet, he needed to get back to the office. _Sure_ , he had solved both Potter’s and Boot’s cases. But he wasn’t going to get _credit_ for them; and he knew all the damned paperwork was piling up.

At least Boot thanked him, pitiful words in passing.

But _Potter—_

 _Fucking prat—ungrateful and_ uncultured. An orgasm was _hardly_ payment.

He had thought, that for a _moment_ , they had had a point of connection.

 _Stop deluding yourself_. Potter was a _war hero_. Draco was _not_ , thank you very much.

If Draco never had to work with Potter again, he’d thank every deity in every pantheon known to him.

And if he had to work with Potter again, _well_...

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. I don’t think I’ve ever written angry sex before. You can find me on tumblr at bafflinghaze. Feel free to point out grammar/spelling mistakes. "Cover" for this fic is _[here](https://bafflinghaze.tumblr.com/post/184503633518/it-was-an-open-secret-in-the-auror-department-of)_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was only one person who infuriated Harry to the core. Draco Malfoy.
> 
> And Malfoy seemed to do it without even _trying_ : with the sweep of his red Auror robes, the glint in his silver eyes, and that smirk. A smirk that _promised._

A week later, Draco received a memo from Boot. _Need your eye on a case. Meet in Potter’s office immediately_ , it said.

Draco set the memo on fire. _What the fuck is Potter up to?_

Potter’s office was near the Head Aurors—a sign of rank. Draco knocked and entered without waiting a moment more. Potter was behind his desk; Boot was sitting on one of the chairs in front.

Boot’s eyes brightened. “Nice to see you, Malfoy.”

Draco nodded coolly at Boot alone. “You required my assistance?”

“Yeah,” Boot handed him the case file.

Draco ignored Potter and flicked through the rather thick pile. According to the dates, Potter and Boot had been at the case for a few days, now. There were multiple subfiles on all the different people they had questioned.

 _Heh_. The case file also noted _Potter_ as the assigned Auror. He must have tried to get Boot to help...and _failed_. Failed badly enough that Boot got sick of the chase and called in _Draco._

How _pitiful_. Draco smirked.

He committed the home address of the missing wizard Edison Hemslock to memory and handed the case file back to Boot.

“Shall we?” Draco said, opening the door.

“Good,” Boot said, quickly getting to his feet. “Let’s get this over and done with.”

At the corner of his eye, Draco could see Potter _fuming_.

 _Indeed, ignoring Potter is_ definitely _the way to go_.

Boot hurried them to the home address, retrieving one well-loved item from the home of the missing wizard on file. Boot didn’t flinch, but instead looked away, when Draco took out his ritual knife.

There was a distinct pleasure in slicing through the Dark Mark on his arm, seeing blood well up from that would aid the _Aurors_.

As Draco enchanted his blood, world-lines-of-connections appeared across his senses: from the item, wisping away from them; first back to Hemslock’s home and then out through the streets.

Draco followed it down the streets and into a small park. The scent thinned suddenly, squeezed tight into the narrowest thread. Hemslock had apparated at that point.

“What is it?” Potter butted in.

Draco looked down at him. “Apparating.” He grabbed both Potter and Boot by the arms and side-alonged them. They landed on cracked pavement and amongst vandalised fencing and warehouses. The scent-world-lines were faded: they always did when Draco had to apparate.

Keeping a cool expression, Draco drew out his knife and bled again. The scent of missing wizard Hemslock reappeared, much stronger, leading right into one of the warehouses.

Draco reached in for his wand. “He’s near.”

Potter started, scanning the area. “Where—huh,” his eyes stopping at one particular warehouse, the same one to which Draco could _tell_. “Got it. Boot?”

Boot nodded.

“Malfoy. Stay _back_ until we come to fetch you,” Potter ordered.

Draco swallowed down a spike of annoyance and gave a stiff nod. “Of _course_ ,” he said, hand moving away from wand to lie by his side innocently. After all, he was just a Desk Auror. He shouldn’t be here in the field at all.

Potter and Boot disillusioned themselves and headed for the warehouse.

Draco looked away. Looked back and frowned when the scent-trace thinned suddenly. Hemslock was no longer on site.

 _Not a coincidence. We’ve been_ found.

Draco drew his wand and threw up a _p_ _rotego_. The blasting spell bounced off and hit a nearby building with a resound _CRACK!_

A stunner clipped his hair; Draco twisted to face a second assailant, threw back his own stunner. A beat later, he had to recast his shield against the first attacker.

That was the ripe time for a third attacker to send a fireball at Draco’s feet. He dodged, but flames caught against robes, and another spell sliced across his arm.

Hot pain burst and blood flowed, just a bit more sluggishly than usual.

Potter and Boot weren’t back.

 _How convenient_.

Draco swept up his blood, potent in his magic, with a sweep of his wand. With a slash, the blood flared into hungry flames that raced towards his three attackers, twisting and turning jaws of flame stretching out to _take_ _._

One of the attackers threw up a shield, the other two a blasting curse and a stunner. Draco whipped back his hand, _p_ _rotego_ forming at the tip of his wand—

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Potter’s voice and magic screeched through the area. Draco’s wand flew from his grasp, and the blasting curse slammed into his leg. His stumble meant the stunner missed him, just.

Draco dropped to the ground, leg stretched in front of him.

 _Fuck. You_. _Potter!_

Trouser and boot had been torn open, Auror-standard protection charms in the clothing shredded like paper. There were two massive _pits_ of red in Draco’s leg, and it hurt like fucking shit.

“Malfoy! You need to get to St. Mungos,” Boot called out. He hurried over, handing back Draco’s wand.

Potter was noticeably silent, rounding off the three attackers. _Oh, he_ knows _he’s guilty_.

“Don’t worry,” Draco said sharply. He closed his eyes for a moment, and spoke low and soft, _Of blood, to blood, skin and flesh and bone kits together; kin-to-kin-to-kin whole and anew_.

The blood on his skin disintegrated as their magic was used up, and Draco’s leg reformed itself. It was still sore, still weak enough to break at the lightest kick. But it’ll have to do. Spelling his trouser leg and boot back to a facsimile of wholeness, Draco stood up, careful to keep any sign of pain from his face.

“Malfoy?” Boot started.

“Boot. Take these three to the Ministry,” Potter said, motioning to the three tied-up wizards. Yet he was staring right at Draco.

Draco looked back coolly.

“...Right,” Boot said. With a crack, he and the three apprehended wizards disappeared.

Potter stepped right up to him. “Tell me what happened. Boot and I found no-one inside the warehouse.”

“Then _perhaps_ you were too slow, or too visible,” Draco said tightly. “As _I_ saw that the trail disappeared when you and Boot approached. If I were there, I could have _told_ you.”

Potter tossed his head back. “What? Should I believe that you _didn’t_ lead us on a fucking goose chase?”

“Three wizards _attacked_ me when you and Boot fucked off,” Draco said sharply. He took a step closer, face a few inches from Potter’s. “Do you _think_ I like getting hit by a _blasting curse?_ ”

“You look fine now,” Potter snorted. But his eyes darted away.

Draco leered. “You must be the first person to tell me that still look handsome even with the grime of battle.”

Potter reddened, even as he looked down Draco’s body. “That’s not what I meant and you _know it!_ ”

—The fucking _blush_ on Potter’s cheeks, the fucking messy hair that _screamed_ for a fingers to tug, hard. The haunting scent-memory of him, the haunting touch-memory of just last week—

Draco pressed his hands down on Potter’s hips, closing the distance between them. “That’s what you mean _now_.”

Potter licked his lips.

Draco smiled, sharp with teeth.

“—No.” Potter pushed Draco away and stumbled back a few steps. “We can’t—”

“Oh, but we _can_.” Draco lowered his voice. “Unless...you want to run away.”

*

Harry scowled. He stepped forward and jabbed Malfoy in the chest. “I’m fucking _fine_ with my sexuality, thank-you-very-much! Maybe it’s _you_ who needs some self-reflection!” He winced when Malfoy grabbed his finger, and then his hand.

“Don’t _poke_ me,” Malfoy said, low and angry. “How can you act so _juvenile!_ ”

Harry grinned cockily. “Takes one to know one.”

“You think you’re so _great_ , the damn poster child, the golden boy of our world!”

Harry snorted. “I know that you’re _not_ so great at all, Malfoy. I’m surprised they even let you into the Aurors.”

“If only they _knew_ your crimes...”

Harry lifted his chin. “ _Oh_ , I’m so scared.”

“You should be.”

Harry laughed. “You can’t scare me, Malfoy—”

Malfoy grabbed the front of Harry’s clothes, twisting in his grip, and kissed him, hard. Grunting, Harry pushed him back. Malfoy gave a gasp of pain. Harry froze, worried. _Maybe he really_ was _hurt badly_ —

—Malfoy, the fucking _bastard_ , used that moment to push Harry down. The two of them tumbled to the ground, Malfoy landing right on top of Harry and knocking the wind out of him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Malfoy grunted in pain.

Harry snarled, not falling for it this time. He wrapped one leg over Malfoy and heaved, pushing Malfoy to the ground.

Malfoy’s eyes were so fucking silver, even as they grew darker. Harry didn’t need to grind down to know that Malfoy was hard, the fucking prat.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you _fancy_ me,” Harry leered.

Malfoy stilled, eyes glinting, lips lifting in a dark smile. “Roll. Fucking. _Over_.”

“Not a _chance,_ ” Harry scowled, pressing down heavier on Malfoy. He tensed at the sudden bolt of pleasure as Malfoy’s thigh rubbed against his cock. “Stop that.”

Malfoy blinked. “Since you hate me so much, don’t you want me on my knees, sucking your dick?”

Harry stiffened, and his cock hardened. _It’s just the offer of a blow job!_ he screamed at himself. _Nothing_ to do with Malfoy. If _any_ attractive person offered, of _course_ Harry would get aroused.

Magic, heavy and crackling like electricity, crept across Harry’s skin. Harry ground his teeth, his magic fighting back against Malfoy’s.

“Unbutton my trousers and take out my dick.”

The voice, Malfoy’s fucking dark _gaze_ , the slide of magic against his skin—it was heady and he was so damn hard, and they were both two grown men and fuck propriety, it wasn’t was though he was ever going to tell Hermione and Ron, and he wasn’t some _virgin_ saving himself for marriage—

Malfoy’s voice dropped, soft and compelling. “ _Harry_ , come on.”

It was the name that did it. Harry shifted his weight to one arm and fumbled at Malfoy’s trousers. “You better get _my_ cock out,” he said, voice coming out rougher than he’d expected.

Malfoy smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, _Harry_.” Two hands, nimble fingers brushed over Harry’s fly, the button and zip opening like magic. Malfoy’s hand reached inside, fucking _cold_ against Harry’s hot, hot skin and firmly pulled out his cock.

Harry thrust his hips against Malfoy’s hand, but Malfoy’s grip didn’t budge, on the verge of painful.

“Harry,” Malfoy whispered. His voice turned sharp. “What’s _your_ task?”

Harry glared at him. “Weren’t you going to suck my cock?”

“But have you been _good_?” Malfoy asked. He grabbed Harry’s hand and pressed it against his trousers. They opened on touch, and Harry’s fingers pressed against heat, even through Malfoy’s pants.

It wasn’t Harry’s fault that the thought of Malfoy’s cock made him weak. Staring back at Malfoy as though this were routine, Harry took out Malfoy’s dick.

“What now, oh _sir—_ _fuck!_ ” Harry fell into a moan as Malfoy started wanking him in earnest, hand slick and firm and tight.

“Perhaps you _can_ be trained,” Malfoy said. A smirk played at his lips, and his hand did that little _twist_ —

Harry glared at Malfoy the best he could while his chest tightened and his cock started to fill with white-hot-pleasure. “ _Hate_ you.” He squeezed Malfoy’s cock, _hard._

The smirk dropped from Malfoy’s voice. “Oh, I _know_.” Malfoy’s hand moved faster. Harry moved his hand on Malfoy’s dick faster in response. There was _no_ way he was going to come first.

“Is that all?” Malfoy asked.

“ _Shut_ up.”

Harry’s head dropped down; he squeezed his eyes shut. If he could just forget that it was _Malfoy—_ yes, that was better—just a hand, long and slim, and chasing pleasure, heat spreading up and up and up—Harry gasped, feeling the upcoming orgasm—

Stopped.

Malfoy’s hand fucking _stopped_.

Harry’s eyes snapped opened. “You fucking prick!” he snarled. He pushed himself up til he was straddling Malfoy’s legs.

Malfoy’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing in what Harry was _not_ going to mistake for pain.

“You needed to be punished. I _promised_ ,” Malfoy said.

Harry laughed hysterically. “You fucking prick!” he said again. He took his own cock in hand, wanking it faster and faster. Harry’s throat tightened. “ _Fuck_ , take _this_ —”

The _zing_ of orgasm felt _just_ as good as seeing Malfoy’s neat Auror uniform covered in Harry’s white come. Smirking, flushed, panting, heart thudding, Harry stood up, tucking himself back in.

“You look better like this. Messy. A slut,” Harry said.

Malfoy inexplicably smiled. “I see.” He moved into a sitting position.

Harry yelped, Malfoy’s leg hooking his ankle and bringing him down hard on his arse. Malfoy’s hands slashed the air, and ropes yanked tight on Harry’s legs and arms, tight in a way as though the bonds were looped to a wall or fixture that stopped Harry from rolling away from Malfoy.

Malfoy tossed his head, sweeping a hand over himself. The mess and come disappeared; but his cock remained out, still flushed red and slick. Eyes fixed on Harry, Malfoy began to leisurely wank himself.

Harry tried not gulp. His cock twitched in his pants.

He couldn’t look away.

Physically, he couldn’t move, the thought not crossing his mind to even _think_ to do so. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the slick slide of Malfoy’s hands, the increasing harshness of his breath—and he just _had_ to look.

Had to look as Malfoy flushed pink, as Malfoy’s hand moved up and down on that cock that Harry had held just minutes before.

Malfoy’s hand, that had been on Harry’s cock just minutes before. Fuck, for that hand to be on his cock right now again—

Harry’s bonds disappeared; he leaned forward to see the _moment_.

Malfoy came with a quiet exhale, hand stuttering. Come landed on the ground.

The damn dirty ground outside the warehouse where Harry had lost Edison Hemslock. Harry’s arousal disappeared in a shock of cold.

“This—this was _stalling_ , wasn’t it?” Harry shook his head. “Fuck you, Malfoy. Fuck, I need to get back to the department and interrogate those men.” He glared at Malfoy. “ _Sure_ you helped all the other Aurors, and yet every time I work with you, it doesn’t work! So you must just be fucking with me. Merlin, I knew you hate me, but at _least_ you be could be a professional and help whatever innocent civilian _I’m_ trying to save! You’re not _worthy_ to be an Auror.”

Malfoy sneered. “I can’t help those who don’t _want_ it.”

Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Bah! See whether you go to St. Mungos or not, for all I care!” He turned and apparated.

*

Draco kept the sneer up until Potter disappeared. He counted to thirteen, and only then did he allow himself to grimace.

His leg was broken again, he could just fucking tell.

But there was little time to lose. Draco was the _best_ at what he did, damn it, and he wasn’t going to let _golden boy Potter_ take that away from him.

*

Harry and Boot spent hours interrogating the three attackers, but they uncovered _nothing_ about the missing Edison Hemslock.

With gritted teeth, Harry had to let the three wizards go: Boot accompanied the three out of their respective holding cells in the DMLE, while Harry stayed in the interrogation room, flicking over their files and wondering _what went wrong?_

 _Malfoy went wrong_ , a taunting voice said in his head.

 _Apart from Malfoy_ , Harry kept reminding himself. First thoughts automatic, second thoughts _true_.

A knock on his door had him straighten up in his chair. It made no sense—Boot know he was there, he should just _enter_. And the interrogation room was still booked. Frowning, Harry got up and opened the door.

It was fucking _Malfoy_ , with a superior smirk on his pale face. “Two witches, down in holding cells 4 and 5, logged under your name.” He stepped aside, revealing a wizard standing behind him. “Auror Potter, I would like you to meet Mr. Edison Hemslock. Do not worry, I _know_ you are physically unable to thank me.”

Harry gaped, and in the space of that moment, Malfoy sneered and walked away.

Remembering that Hemslock was there, Harry resolved to ignore Malfoy. “Mr. Hemslock, let’s go to St. Mungo’s,” Harry said authoritatively. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions about what happened.”

*

Harry had heard _enough_ of Hemslock’s testimony; being held at wandpoint to pay back his debts, in which ever way _possible_ , and Malfoy’s subsequent apparation from nowhere to free him heroically.

Malfoy must have done it after Harry taunted him. Malfoy couldn’t be decent even if someone paid him a million galleons, but Harry could still _make_ him. _Heh_.

It was _so_ obvious that Malfoy’s wounds weren’t nearly as bad as they had looked. Leg wounds just bled a lot without being bad, right?

Feeling better, Harry headed off to interrogate the two witches Malfoy had taken in.

*

Draco ran in front of Auror Willow and Auror Wattle, pain shooting up his leg every time he landed on that foot. With a curse, he shot a splinting spell at it, ignored the burst of lightheadedness, and ran faster to where the blood trace led.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art for this chapter is [_here_](https://bafflinghaze.tumblr.com/post/184533558208/there-was-only-one-person-who-infuriated-harry-to).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His blood came from the depth of his bones. Sometimes, Draco wondered if he'll faint from the blood lost one day, trying to help people. Sometimes, Draco wondered if he’d bleed himself dry one day, trying to save people. Sometimes, Draco wondered if his body would fall apart, unable to take the stress after days, weeks, months, years. 
> 
> After all, no heroic deed goes unpunished for Draco Malfoy.

Auror Willow split the door to the house and ran in, leading Draco and Auror Wattle through the house and down into the basement. An alarm began to ring. Willow cast a _Lumos Maximus_ and lit the magically cavernous room right up.

Draco sucked in a breath.

Cases involving children were some of the _worst_. Locked in _chains_ , thin and malnourished and dirty—

“Malfoy, you free the children and get them out of here _in which ever way you can_. _We’ll_ deal with these bastards,” Auror Wattle told Draco, her eyes fixed and wand out at the approaching guards.

Wattle’s words were fine permission to Draco’s ears: no need for him to think about a spell’s classification: he just had to _cast_ it. Criminal spells to slice through metal manacles and magical ropes, Draco freed them as fast as he could. He found the child, the source of the blood trace. It had been an hour, barely two, since they had been taken: that child was lucky. Some of the other children though, their hands were callused with hard labour, eyes squinting. Magical and muggle children alike.

There was _no excuse_ for the magical children being there. If the case had been reported to the Aurors, the corresponding case Auror _should_ have called Draco to the job.

Something had happened down that line, and Draco didn’t know _where_.

“Stay behind me,” he commanded the children, using a light spell to nudge them closer. He anointed all of them quickly with a general healing spell and a protection spell. Some of the children started crying. It took almost all of Draco’s willpower not to snap at them.

First part done; now he needed to get the entire group of over a dozen weak children _out_ through the Anti-Apparition wards in the basement. And given all the explosions around the two Aurors, Draco hadn’t the _luxury_ to side-along the children two-by-two.

Draco pursed his lips. “Stand close together,” he commanded them. They compiled, cringing, but Draco had no _time_ for nice words. A slash against his arm, right down the center of the snake on his Dark Mark. Draco drew the blood out into a spell circle, the lines as thin as he dared while making it still _complete_.

The room spun. Draco ground his teeth and cast.

His blood turned into light, and he and all the children gathered inside disappeared and reappeared in the waiting area by the reception of the DMLE.

The Ministry alarms immediately started going off. Pain burst along Draco’s side, and for a brief moment, Draco felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t-couldn’t- _couldn’t_ —

*

Harry jumped, shook, at the blaring sound of the alarms. He rubbed his eyes, definitely awake now. It was late; when Harry dashed out of his office, he only spied Senior Auror Leverets.

“What’s happening?”

Leverets beckoned Harry. “The Ministry Anti-Apparition wards have been breached—” Leverets pushed opened the door out to the DMLE lobby.

There was a crowd of dishevelled children. They were clustered towards one side, metres away from the body slumped on the floor.

Harry sucked in sharp breath. _Malfoy!_ He looked at the children. Where did they all _come_ from?

“Potter, Ennervate Malfoy,” Leverets ordered.

Pressing his lips together, Harry crouched by Malfoy’s side. His body was twisted, and his sleeves were rolled up, blood still welling up from cuts. Harry cast _Ennervate_ and waited with baited breath.

Malfoy stirred. His eyes snapped open and his entire body stiffened. “ _Fuck—_ ugh, it’s _you_ , Potter.”

Harry snorted. “C’mon old man, get up,” he said, moving on of Malfoy’s arm over his shoulder to shift him so that he leaned against the side of one of the sofas in the lobby. “Where did you get the kids?”

“I merely moved from an unsafe location to a safer one, on the behest of Auror Wattle,” Malfoy said coolly. The haziness in his eyes, followed by his rubbing of his temples, ruined the effect. He then rubbed his hand over one of his legs, and winced. “ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered under his breath.

“What is the meaning of this!” Head Auror Robards came to a stomping stop, hands on his hips. “Who broke the Ministry wards? And dammit, two Aurors and neither of you thought to look for these kids’ parents, or take them to St. Mungos?”

Harry blinked, not understanding Robards’ words. There were _three_ Aurors here—

Malfoy turned his head away.

 _Oh_.

Robards stomped forward. “Well? I’m _waiting,_ unless you’re all _incompetent?_ ”

Auror Leverets took a step forward, but Malfoy spoke first.

“It was I. Not too difficult with enough power.” Malfoy got to his feet, swaying ungainly. His eyes weren't focused.

“Fuck, Malfoy, you really shouldn’t do that—” Harry hissed, reaching out an arm to steady Malfoy. Harry became _worried_ when Malfoy didn’t shrug off the help. Malfoy was injured. _Really_ injured.

Robards’s eyes narrowed. “And why did you do so? _You_ , of all people, should know the Ministry’s laws, rules and regulations.”

“ _Sir—_ ” Harry started.

“I’m speaking with Malfoy,” Robards snapped.

Malfoy lifted his chin. “I was removing a number of children out of a highly undesirable location. A trafficking ring.”

Harry whipped his head to Malfoy, and then to the clustered children. “We need to process them, quickly, then! Find some dinner for them, too—”

“Your concern is admirable, Potter,” Robards said. “Why don’t you and Auror Leverets do just that? And Malfoy...to my office.”

Malfoy shook off Harry’s hold and followed Robards.

*

Harry was there when Malfoy left Robards’ office. He went to lean against the wall; he pushed off from it when he spotted Harry.

“What happened?” Harry asked in a hushed voice. He reached out to steady Malfoy, but Malfoy shoved his arm away and scowled.

“I know we have sex after we meet, but right now I’m too fucking tired to blow you.”

Harry accidentally bit his tongue, hard. “ _Fuck._ That—oh, seriously, Malfoy, that wasn’t what I meant! What did Robards say?”

“I’ve been _suspended_ , Potter,” Malfoy spat out. “For acting as a Field Auror, against Auror regulations.”

Harry gaped. “But—those children...Doesn’t he _know_...”

Malfoy sneered. “Of _course_ he does. The entire _department_ knows what I do. Even if they won’t _admit_ it.” He walked forward, a hand trailing along the wall, his eyes not quite focused.

Harry’s stomach rolled unpleasantly. “Let me help you.” He nudged Malfoy’s arm and slung it over his shoulders.

Malfoy turned to him. “What happened to the children?”

“They’re fine. Guardians and Healers are with them now.” Harry wrapped his arm around Malfoy’s waist. It touched something oddly wet. Harry lifted his fingers, stomach turning. Blood, fresh. Harry gulped. “Malfoy? You need to go to St. Mungos.”

“No!” Malfoy jolted violently. “If that is your aim, unhand me!”

Harry squared his jaw. “What, are you _scared?_ ”

Malfoy’s hand clenched into a fist, slowly raising it. “I’m _intelligent_. And I need to get back to my flat.”

Harry eyed the fist. He could take on Malfoy, _easy_. It wouldn’t be like their previous rough and tumble. Harry had a stark advantage.

...Which he should be man enough to _not_ take, damn it.

Harry sighed. “Fine. I’ll accompany you.”

*

Malfoy’s flat looked the same as always, when Harry stepped through.

“Aren’t you going to _leave_ now that you’ve delivered me safely home like a _child_?” Malfoy bit out.

Harry didn’t quite meet Malfoy’s eyes. “I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Malfoy hissed. “Don’t _pity_ me,” he snarled. With a sharp cut of his wand, his robes slid off from his body. Underneath, his shirt was soaked in blood, and his leg was no better.

Harry looked away. “So, what happened?”

Malfoy didn’t reply, his breathing harsh, so Harry looked back. Maybe he could cast and _Episkey_ , or something—

Malfoy was unbuttoning his shirt. He caught Harry’s gaze. “If you cannot bring yourself to _leave_ , then make yourself _useful_. The blood tofu is in the keep-cold cabinet. Go and cook it for me.” He tilted his head back, smirking. “I trust...that you won’t poison me on purpose.”

Harry puffed out his chest. “I’m a good cook, _thanks_.” Nevermind that he had never cooked blood tofu before—first time for everything, right? He stepped past Malfoy into the kitchen area and started opening all the drawers and cupboards.

“And make something for yourself,” Malfoy added.

Harry glanced back at him, cupboards half-open.

 _Erk_.

Malfoy had taken off his shirt. Harry could only see his back, and his broad shoulders, and his trim waist. His white-blond hair was shiny and darkened with sweat, sticking to the line of his neck. Malfoy muttered something, and in a sparkling of magic, the blood and sweat on his body disappeared, leaving a smooth, smooth expanse of skin. Malfoy was fit as any Field Auror.

Malfoy glanced over his shoulder.

Harry slammed the open cupboard shut and opened another at random, and said the first thing that came to mind: “So, why aren’t you a Field Auror?”

Footsteps. Harry fixed his gaze on the cupboard and took out some pots and pans. He straightened, and startled at Malfoy looming over him.

“Oh, you mean _how_ did _you_ become a Field Auror, and yet I _failed_?” Malfoy said, voice low and dangerous.

Harry stuck his head out, refusing to step back. “I don’t know.”

Malfoy’s eyes were hooded. “Oh, _why_ is it that _your_ heroics get you the acclaim of the Ministry, of the papers, and yet _mine_ deserves punishment?”

“Look, that’s not _my_ fault.”

Malfoy’s nostrils flared. “Why are you _really_ here? Am I your _pity_ project? Do you want _another_ favour? Or...”

A finger traced up the column of buttons on Harry’s robes, up his throat. Harry’s breaths became shallow.

“Or, were you hoping to suck _my_ cock instead?”

Harry’s traitorous cock twitched, and his mouth started to salivate.

Malfoy smirked, sliding closer to Harry, bringing bare chest _much too close_. His hands went to Harry’s shoulders, and pushed down.

Harry’s eyes darted down Malfoy’s chest, to tent in his trousers, and the drying blood.

“Fuck—um—what about your leg?”

A dark smile flickered over Malfoy’s face. “How _considerate_.” He pushed Harry backwards, back into the lounge part of the room.

Harry swallowed, hard, when Malfoy sat back on his sofa, legs open. _Fuck, fuck, fuck is this really happening?_

Malfoy tilted his head back in challenge. A hand palmed his bulge.

Defiantly, Harry sunk to his knees. He pushed away Malfoy’s hand and took out Malfoy’s cock. It sprung up, just a little. The head glistened when Harry wanked it back, the slit oozing out precum.

Harry licked his lips and leaned forward. Malfoy shifted his hips forward.

It was... _fuck_. It smelt like _Malfoy_ , musky and undefinable. As Harry sucked, he could feel it throbbing, twitching. Harry’s chest tightened and he leaned forward and _swallowed_.

“ _Oh, fuck_ ,” Malfoy gasped. His fingers tangled in Harry’s hair, massaging and scratching and tugging on the side of _just_ too hard. It made Harry shiver, tingles spreading from his scalp down his spine.

Malfoy’s hips twitched upwards, fucking shallowly, then harder and deeper. It felt as though his cock was _growing_.

“Fuck, you’re so _good_ , Potter.”

Harry sucked, hard.

Malfoy shuddered, gasping. “Go on, take out your dick.”

Harry stuck a hand down his own trousers and pulled his cock out. It took everything in him to breathe and swallow and suck as Malfoy fucked his mouth. The rhythm of his wank was off, but it didn’t damned matter because Malfoy’s hips were lifting, Harry’s nose pressed right up in his skin, and his cock was pulsing hot come down Harry’s throat. Harry’s hips stuttered, chest tightening and he came over his fingers with a groan.

A few minutes later, Harry found his head resting on Malfoy’s thigh, panting, Malfoy’s softening cock just a few inches away. Malfoy’s fingers thread through his hair, blunt fingers lightly scratching.

Harry tilted his head to look at Malfoy’s face. “I’m not a dog, you know.”

“More’s the pity,” Malfoy drawled. He sighed heavily and stood up. Harry scrambled to his feet.

With a flick of his fingers, Malfoy summoned a new shirt. “I gather you’ll be staying for dinner.”

“I don’t know if I trust your cooking, Malfoy...” Harry smirked, feeling loose and relaxed. Even _Malfoy_ seemed (relatively) loose and relaxed. He didn’t seem so _high-and-mighty_ now, didn’t seem so unreachable.

“Don’t push me,” Malfoy warned. “You can chop the vegetables.”

“I would _never_ ,” Harry said. He cracked his knuckles. “Let’s do this.”

*

That night, Harry lay in bed, hand absently fondling his cock as he was unable to stop thinking about Malfoy.

They had had dinner in near silence, and Harry hadn’t stayed back much longer.

But that short time was enough to leave Harry unsettled.

He...couldn’t hate Malfoy any longer. Blood-only magic was banned because its practitioners had the disturbing tendency to use _other people’s_ blood. And yet, Malfoy _literally_ used his own life to help.

Oh, Malfoy was still a prick (still had a nice prick, a tiny voice whispered slyly; Harry’s hand on his cock tightened). But Malfoy felt a _lot_ more bearable now that Harry had gotten to know him.

Harry had the sneaking suspicion that he should try to get Robards to revoke Malfoy’s suspension. Unfortunately, Harry had the same sneaking suspicion that Malfoy would not appreciate Harry doing so on Malfoy’s behalf.

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once, magic had captivated Harry. That had been a long time ago. Now, it was hard to see it anything but as means to an end, as a weapon inextricably accompanied by blood and pain and death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: dead bodies (unnamed characters)

Harry turned his face away from the body as Auror Leverets covered it in white cloth.

 _Another murder_.

The case was supposed to have been a one-off death: an old wizard with a large estate, and Harry had been assigned to observe the procedures of more senior Aurors. It looked obvious—clearly one of the man’s children had murdered him for their inheritance.

But then another dead body turned up with the _exact_ same pattern of cuts just three days later after, on the other side of the UK. And this time, the victim was a Muggle.

And like clockwork, every three days, there as another victim.

They couldn’t predict who would be struck next, nor where. The murders were happening right across the UK, wizards and Squibs and Muggles alike.

“Wand of the victim,” Leverets said, drawing attention to the dropped wand on the ground. He cast a handful of investigative spells, and then a _Priori Incantatem_.

The last spell used was a simple _Diffindo_. Just like all the other cases involving wizards. Not that they hadn’t known; clothes hung off the body in shreds, and cuts had decorated the skin, bloodless no matter how deep.

“Drained, again,” Leverets muttered.

Senior Auror Poults pursed his lips. “It’s blood magic. Our perp’s a pureblood.”

Leverets straightened up, gaze flicking to Harry. “If Malfoy was here...he would _know_ , wouldn’t he? He would know what spells, what rituals, require sacrifice.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, barely biting back the _it’s not Malfoy, it_ can’t _be_. Instead, he forced out, “Unfortunately, Malfoy is currently suspended.”

Leverets sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. Suspended right before the murders started.”

Poults motioned to the body. “Let’s get this back to the DMLE Morgue first.”

“Go ahead,” Leverets said. “Potter, a word.”

Leverets waited until Poults disapparated. There was no cleanup to do on the scene: with the dead body removed, it looked just like another footpath, and not a single trace of blood.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“You’re _chummy_ with Malfoy,” Leverets said. “Don’t let your biases get in the way. Bring him in for interrogation.”

“On what evidence?”

Leverets’ lips thinned. “Read the case files and _find_ a reason, Potter. Or we’ll have _another_ dead body in three days.”

*

 _What fucking evidence?_ Harry scowled at an imaginary Leverets. Malfoy had always used his _own_ blood. And he didn’t use a _wand_ , he used a fucking _knife_ to cut himself!

The case files were spread all over Harry’s desk, from images of the victims, to questionings of the victims' friends and family.

Leverets was _wrong_. Rather than blaming Malfoy, he should have wanted Malfoy on the case as a consultant, because Malfoy _would_ know—

Harry sucked in a breath and swept up the case files.

*

Malfoy’s flat was dark. Harry cast a _Lumos_ , heading deeper in. “Malfoy? Malfoy!”

But the flat was empty.

Pursing his lips, Harry went back to the fireplace. Malfoy Manor would be his next location—

_Crack!_

Harry twisted round as all the lights came on.

Malfoy had appeared, arms folded. “I would have been _polite_ to send an owl first.”

“It’s urgent. I need your help.” Harry stuck a hand into his robes and took out his case files.

Malfoy’s lips twisted. “Unofficially, I presume.”

“ _We-ell_ ,” Harry drew out, “Not as an Auror. But as a consultant...unofficially.”

Malfoy gave a flat stare. “Do you want me criminally _charged_ , next?”

Harry took a step forward. “Look, do you want to help or not? Because _let me tell you_ , the other Aurors think _you_ did it!”

“Ah. The bloodless murders. _All_ over the papers these days.” Malfoy’s eyes darkened. “And what would it cost me to aid _your_ investigation?”

“Seriously!” Harry scowled. “I _know_ you can help! Could you really live knowing there’s going to be _another_ dead person?!”

“Yes,” Malfoy said flatly. “People are dying every second, after all.”

Harry stared at him, incredulous. “Then why the fuck did you become an Auror?!”

“That is my business.” He brushed invisible dust off his shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

Harry lunged forward and grabbed Malfoy’s robes. “In three days, someone else is going to _die_. Leverets wants _you_ in for interrogation!”

Malfoy scowled. “Unhand me, Potter.”

Harry twisted Malfoy’s robes tighter, tugging him down. “No. Come on, Malfoy. _Help me,_ so we can solve this case right under Leverets’ nose!”

Malfoy leered. “Like your dirty, little secret.” He grabbed Harry’s fingers and bent them back. Pain arced, and a beat later, Malfoy kneed him where it fucking hurt and twisted his arm as his other hand pushed Harry down to the ground onto his knees.

Harry glared up at him, a deep of sense of betrayal in his gut. “What the fuck?” He grimaced at the throbbing pain. “To _think_ I wanted to help lift your bloody suspension—”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “ _Pardon?_ ”

Harry blinked. “What? I was going to talk to Robards.”

Malfoy’s fingers clenched. “ _Don’t_. You’ll make it _worse_.” He shook his head, and then said abruptly, “What items of the murderer do you have in Evidence?”

Harry pushed himself to his feet through throbbing pain. “Cotton fibres on the wands.”

Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Potter. You fucking _idiot_. That’ll more likely trace back to the manufacturer’s location than the murderer. What _else_ do you have?”

“There’s just the dead bodies and their wands, but—” Harry stopped. There was a look in Malfoy’s eyes that sent a chill down his spine.

Harry pressed his lips together. He couldn’t think of any _good_ things involving magic and dead bodies.

Malfoy held his gaze.

Harry closed his eyes briefly. “ _Fine_.”

*

It was a day before Harry could call Malfoy in, with too many Aurors interested in the new additions to the DMLE Morgue.

Harry had to wait until it was empty before sending a Patronus to Malfoy. And thus, it was a few hours after midnight when Harry and Malfoy could finally sneak into the DMLE Morgue.

The four bodies from the case were laid in a small row, covered in white cloth. Wizard, Muggle, Squib, wizard.

Malfoy glanced between then and went to body at one of the ends. “This is most recent.”

Harry winced at the sound. Quickly, he cast a _Muffliato_. “Yeah,” he whispered regardless. His eyes were immediately drawn when Malfoy took out his knife.

Harry flinched when Malfoy slit his wrist instead of his arm. Blood ran immediately, thicker than usual. Malfoy flicked blood off his knife, tucking it away. He then drew out his wand, tracing runes and patterns in the air.

Harry froze when the white sheet seemed to move.

Then, it _did_ move.

Malfoy held his palm up. The body arched under the sheet, head lifting up; Harry could see the outline of the mouth _opening—_

A red mist formed, shifting and pulsing, and forming shapes—

Harry stepped closer and tried not to breathe.

The shapes sharpened, and Harry realised that it was where they had found the dead body. A figure moved into the scene, dressed in Mugglish clothing. With a twist of their fingers, a wand flew into their hands—hands that looked oddly smooth at parts, crinkled at others—the cotton gloves. Their mouth moved, and though it was silent, Harry _felt_ the spell _Diffindo_ in the shape of their lips. Slashes, gaps of air, appeared in a familiar pattern in the red mist, until the mist was no more.

Harry choked down a breath. “ _Fucking hell_.” The body was lying back down, prone under its shroud once more.

Harry had been able to see the face in the mist. It was the face of the previous victim.

*

Draco closed his eyes against sudden bright spots. Too much blood loss on too little sleep. But he wouldn’t _die_ from it. Under his breath, Draco muttered a freshening charm on himself.

Unfortunately, the blood required to re-animate the brain, just enough of it, was more than what he needed for a blood trace. And a human brain required a lot more than all the little mice brains Draco had used to hammer out the exact form of the spell and runes.

The spell wasn’t _technically_ illegal insomuch as it hadn’t existed until this day, and hence hadn’t been officially classified. But it _had_ borrowed heavily on the forms of necromancy.

 _So long as Potter can keep his mouth shut and_ not _ask what just happened..._

When Potter didn’t say anything more, Draco opened his eyes again. “Was that sufficient?”

Potter startled, turning wide eyes at him. Swallowed. “The face of the murderer was the previous victim. And how likely is it that the murderer of the previous victim was...” Potter motioned to one of the other bodies.

“It’ll be a glamour or Polyjuice,” Draco said.

Potter shook his head. “It was too good for a glamour—even the height changed. But if it were Polyjuice, they should have looked _dead_ if not _become_ dead themself.”

“A _standard_ Polyjuice,” Draco drawled. “A dedicated Potions Master could perhaps come with a formula to Polyjuice into dead persons as though alive. Some form of stasis charm upon the hair, for example.” _Or necromancy-touched spells_ , he didn’t add.

Potter shot him a narrow look. “Do you know any such potions masters?”

The tone was on the edge of accusatory. Draco smoothed his face. “No.”

“Can you repeat it?” Potter glanced to the next body.

Draco moved over to it. “Of course,” he said smoothly. The next body was older. Draco had to force more of his magic and blood to partially revive it. His blood returned as mist, shaping the minutes before the victim had died.

Potter’s face became increasingly pinched.

“Again?” Draco said idly, subtly widening his stance for extra balance.

“The first one,” Potter said, motioning.

Draco nodded and repeated the procedure.

The red mist formed, once again. This time, the killer was dressed in full robes that shifted and floated as though underwater, disguising the body shape underneath. Their movements more gliding than walking. Where their face should have been was simply nothingness, a gap in the red mist.

 _Dressed liked a mash-up of all deities and legends_ , Draco thought. This killer had delusions of grandeur.

Potter half shook his head and tugged at his hair. “Fuck. _Two_ more days before someone else dies, and all we know is that the killer will look like _that_ victim.” His lips twisted, and turned desperate eyes towards Draco. “Are you _sure_ you can’t trace the cotton fibres?”

“The connection is too weak,” Draco said. “It was likely contaminated in the sheer act of isolating it.”

“Then—what if you tried to trace the victim? The body doesn’t have any blood, but the _killer_ would be Polyjuiced as him—”

Draco blinked. “That could work,” he grudgingly admitted. “ _If_ you know the time the killer will strike.” Unless he kept himself bleeding and constantly reboosting the spell.

Potter deflated. “There’s _got_ to be another way...” he muttered. Sighed. “Go home, Malfoy. And...thanks.”

“You wanted me to help. I did—”

“Right,” Potter cut in. “So, thanks. I’ve kept you up long enough.” His tone was absent and dismissive.

Draco drew himself together. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to pretend I’m a consultant on your case,” he said coldly. “Good luck. You’ll need it.” Draco turned on his heel and strode out of the DMLE Morgue.

He stopped a corridor away. Potter hadn’t come running after him. The hurt, the fucking betrayal he felt—it was only because he wasn’t in a quite right state of mind, it was only because he’d lost too much blood. And it was _not_ because he had done something as stupid as to _hope_.

Scowling, Draco pulled out the blood replenisher and bone strengthening potions he’d prepared earlier and downed them.

He was about to head back to Malfoy Manor—when he realised he was in the _DMLE_. Potter was still in the Morgue, and the department was empty. Draco took a detour. And oh, aren’t duplication charms _useful?_

*

Harry was about to follow Malfoy when he left in a huff. Except experience reminded him there was only _one_ way to calm Malfoy down, and Harry didn’t have the _time_. People had died, will die, and Harry had a job to do.

*

Potions apothecary after potions apothecary; Harry couldn’t find anyone stocking alternative versions of the Polyjuice potion. Potions master after potions master, none of them admitted to making alternative versions of the Polyjuice potion. Harry’s mind kept returning to Malfoy. There seemed to be only one thing they could do...only one thing Malfoy could do.

*

Books, opened, scattered around Draco at one of Malfoy Manor’s libraries.

 _Ah. I see_.

The robes that floated as though underwater: this was a motif in some of the old earth goddesses. The darkness where a face should lie: that represented gods of sacrifice. Coupled with the bleeding out of the victims...the killer had fashioned themselves as some kind of deity upon earth, and using sacrificial blood magic to—to _what?_ If the killer had been _keeping_ all that power, they’d need a _team_ of Aurors, and some Unspeakables, to take them down. If the killer hadn’t, then—

Draco sucked in a breath. _Sacrificial magic to the Earth and Magic itself_. Long ago, purebloods had spilt their blood upon the earth to enrich it with magic, and to mark their lands and territories.

Draco snapped the encyclopaedia of deities shut, and summoned his copy of the case files. Times of death had been filled in, and when Draco cross-checked with his astronomical alignment texts…

All the deaths were sacrifices. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and Draco started calculating the _auspicious_ time for the next sacrifice.

*

The day came, and Harry had _nothing_. Feeling as though underwater, Harry went to the previous victim’s home to retrieve a beloved item. And then he flooed to Malfoy’s flat.

Once again, however, the flat was dark and empty. Harry waited. But Malfoy didn’t appear as before. Scowling, he cast his Patronus to call Malfoy.

It was long moments before Malfoy arrived.

“ _What_?” Malfoy glared.

“Here.” Harry shoved the item at Malfoy’s face. “Trace it.”

Malfoy pushed his hand away. “No.”

“Why _not_?” Harry shouted. “Someone’s going to _die!_ We don’t have _time_ for any other lead! We only have this!”

“The next death will happen at _noon_ ,” Malfoy said frostily. “So come back later.”

Harry sucked a breath. “How?” he demanded, grabbing Malfoy’s robes. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“It’s obvious,” Malfoy said. “If you had just done even _basic_ arithmancy on the times of death of the previous sacrifices.”

Harry let go of Malfoy. “Fuck. Fuck. I never did arithmancy. But you could be wrong.”

Malfoy said nothing.

“You could be _wrong_. Come _on_ , Malfoy. What if—what if those were coincidences? Hermione’s always on about including this and that—and what if you _missed_ something?” Panic bubbled in Harry’s chest. He felt _so close_ , if only Malfoy would fucking do as he said! “We need to do it early! We still have to _track them down!_ ”

“You care.”

Harry glared at Malfoy. “Of course I fucking _care!_ Someone’s about to die, and we could _prevent_ that! How could you let that opportunity go?”

Malfoy leaned in. “I’m not an Auror. I’m not a consultant. Why should I spill my blood on _your_ wild goose chase?”

“The second death happened in the _morning_ ,” Harry said. “It can happen again. You’re the only one who can do this!”

Malfoy gave a bark of laughter. “ _Naive_ , you are, Potter. _Anyone_ can cast blood magic.”

Harry snorted. “ _Muggles_ can’t.”

“Oh, but they _try_ , don’t they?” Malfoy smirked, lips _mocking_ Harry.

Harry tackled Malfoy and kissed him, forced his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth until Malfoy reciprocated. Abruptly, Harry pushed Malfoy back. “Help me,” he growled.

Malfoy licked his lips.

Harry pressed his hand against Malfoy’s robes, right against Malfoy’s bulge. “ _Help me_ , Malfoy.”

Malfoy’s hips shifted, pressing himself against Harry’s hand. “How _devious_ of you,” he muttered darkly.

Harry went in closer. “ _Well?_ ” He dropped his tone, looked up at Malfoy through his lashes. “For me?”

Malfoy pulled his head back, eyes darting away. “Fuck you, Potter.”

“Oh, but you _haven’t_ ,” Harry said, narrowed eyes following Malfoy’s eyes. “Oh, _Draco_ —”

“Let this be on _your_ head,” Malfoy said sharply. His hand darted out and he grabbed the item Harry had retrieved.

Harry grinned, triumphant and relieved. “Let’s do this.”

“I doubt _you_ thought of a location where the next death will be. Unlike you, I _have_.” Malfoy grabbed Harry’s arm and side-alonged him.

They landed in a street with neat, identical houses.

“Why _here_?” Harry looked around, but there was nothing of note.

“The next sacrifice will be a Muggle, to return magic back to this land,” Malfoy said offhandedly.

Harry whipped his head back. “What?” But Malfoy was cutting his Dark Mark. Harry shut his mouth and waited.

And waited.

“Malfoy?”

Malfoy’s nostrils flared. “Where did the previous victim die?”

Harry wracked his brains, and then cast a map locator spell. “That way,” he pointed.

“The trace leads to where the blood was spilled,” Malfoy said, grim.

“Then maybe our killer hasn’t Polyjuiced in yet,” Harry said. “That should appear on your _trace_ -thing, wouldn’t it?”

“I haven’t done any tests,” Malfoy grimaced.

Harry’s stomach rolled. “Maybe you just need to use more power and make a finer search.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, and he held out an imperious hand.

Harry frowned at it, and slowly moved his hand towards Malfoy’s hand.

“ _Blood replenisher_ ,” Malfoy said sharply.

Harry yanked his hand back. “Don’t you have any?”

Malfoy’s lips pressed tight, and he turned—Harry lurched forward and grabbed Malfoy’s arm—and they disapparated.

A headache hit Harry immediately. He stumbled and fell to his knees on a soft rug, head spinning.

“ _Tch_ ,” Malfoy said. He strode over to a cabinet and pulled out a red vial.

Harry rubbed his head. “This isn’t your flat.” The room they were in was bigger than Malfoy’s entire flat, from its large fireplace and lush sofas to the rows of bookcases and glass cabinets.

“I’m moving back to the Manor,” Malfoy said.

“But why? Didn’t you...run away...” Harry bit his lip. That was what he thought was implied when Malfoy talked about Roger Witman and being queer.

“That flat is funded through my _Auror job_ , which I do not have,” Malfoy said coldly.

“But you’re only suspended!” Harry protested.

“ _Indefinitely_.”

Harry bit back his words. Suspensions usually only lasted a week, maybe two. Except, it had been over two weeks already, and Malfoy still wasn’t back…

“I’ll talk to Robards.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Malfoy whipped his head back towards Harry. “Because I’m fucking _quitting!_ I’m going to ‘help’ you solve this case and then I’m fucking _done_ with the Ministry!”

“...Fine. Then are you ready to try again?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Malfoy practically snarled.

*

Malfoy cast the blood trace again with noticeably more blood. It amounted to nothing.

“Let me go back to the Ministry,” Harry said. “To check if there’s been any reports of murders.”

“It’s going to be at noon,” Malfoy sneered.

“Take a rest,” Harry ordered. “I’ll be back.”

*

No murders with the required pattern of cuts had appeared. Harry even checked the Muggle police reports. And then, time was getting much too close to noon.

_What if Malfoy is right?_

*

Draco smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Ten seconds before noon, standing in the area that he had calculated properly once Potter had left, blood dripping from his Mark...his blood trace had struck and found its target.

And Potter was nowhere to be found.

Draco’s breath was shallow, and he kept blinking against the bright light of noon. He ran after the blood trace—

 _Nine_.

Trees ahead.

 _Eight_.

Past the trees.

 _Seven_.

A sharp turn into a pavement between the houses.

_Six._

Turning in.

 _Five_.

Sunlight shifting as the sun inched across the sky.

 _Four_.

A figure, ahead! A second figure, too.

 _Three_.

Sunlight, flooding the pavement.

 _Two_.

A sharp _“Muffliato._ ”

 _One_.

A white, gloved hand extended. “ _Diffindo_.”

— _Zero_.

The Muggle victim arched back, screaming, but there was no sound. Blood sprayed into the air, getting dragged towards the killer.

Draco forced himself faster, blood rushing through his ears, his vision blurring. Whipped his wand forward. “ _Stupefy!_ ” The spell went wide, slamming into brick.

The killer turned to face Draco, face twisted into annoyance. “ _Diffindo!_ ” they cast on the Muggle again. “ _Diffindo!_ ” they cast on Draco.

The spell ripped through Draco’s robes, blood spurting and rushing away from him.

 _That’s_ my _blood!_ Draco snarled. With a rush of hands, he swept up his blood. Under his will, it turned into fire that he shot at the killer.

“—Malfoy!” came a voice from above. Potter swept down upon a broomstick.

The killer disapparated with a _CRACK!_ , and Draco’s blood trace to them thinned to the tiniest thread.

“Oh _no_ ,” Potter cried, rushing towards the fallen Muggle.

Draco stepped unsteadily over. “You went through Auror training, same as I. Where’s your fucking field healing?”

“But most of them don’t work on Muggles properly,” Potter said, distraught. Nonetheless, he drew his wand and cast an _Episkey_. Cuts closed, but the muggle was too pale. Potter bit his lip, and tried another _Episkey_ , then another.

Draco couldn’t stand Potter’s expression. “Move aside,” he said gruffly. His wound was still bleeding. Carefully, he pulled out that blood, wrapping his hands in red and pressed his hands against the too-pale skin of the Muggle.

Colour spread from where his hands pressed. But not enough.

Draco drew more blood.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Draco’s head was pounding. His eyes were open but he couldn’t see. But he knew it still wasn’t _enough_.

And Draco hated that distraught expression on Potter’s face that he _knew_ was on Potter's face. It felt all _wrong_.

Draco drew more blood.

And collapsed.

*

Harry stared as colour bloomed on the Muggle’s face, as their breath strengthened, and weakened, and strengthened and—

Malfoy fell, slumped over the muggle.

“Fuck!” Panic spiralled up Harry’s chest. There was the Muggle, but there was also _Malfoy_. With a grunt, Harry shoved Malfoy off the Muggle and onto flat ground. Malfoy was still bleeding—“ _Episkey!_ ” Harry shouted. “ _Rennervate!_ ”

Malfoy stirred. He started to sit up, but fell back a moment later.

The Muggle was _dying_. “ _Stasis!_ ” Harry tried. It seemed to hold, but he knew that it wasn’t supposed to be cast on people like that. “Malfoy!” Malfoy was no help. _Fuck_. Harry had to forced himself to breathe before he could cast a Patronus to call the Aurors on scene.

“St. Mungos,” Harry muttered. “They both need to go to St. Mungos.”

“ _No_ ,” Malfoy croaked out. “Don’t make me go there.” Still lying on the ground, Malfoy pulled out a container of cream and a potions vial. “ _Up_.”

Harry scrambled over to him, supporting Malfoy’s head up as he drank down the elixir. Malfoy threw the vial aside and with shaky hands, opened the container of cream, and started dabbing it over his cuts.

“Let me,” Harry said, taking it from him. Malfoy couldn’t retaliate, instead slumping. The cream had the scent of dittany mixed with other unknown substances. Harry focused hard on spreading it across Malfoy’s pale skin. Malfoy’s chest rose and fell under Harry’s hand.

To think that _this_ was how Harry would first touch Malfoy’s chest...and his Sectumsempra scars.

“Malfoy...”

“I was _right_ ,” Malfoy interrupted. “It happened right on noon. And where were _you_?”

Harry shook his head, cheeks feeling weird, eyes starting to go puffy. Guilt bubbled just below the surface.

_Crack! Crack!_

Harry looked up at Auror Leverets and Auror Poults.

“So, it was Malfoy,” Leverets said. “Poults, check the victim.”

“It wasn’t!” Harry retorted, standing up, fists clenched. “It was someone else! Malfoy _fought off_ the murderer! I saw!”

Leverets’ face soured. “He should have _captured_ the murderer, then. Hardly an Auror, is he?” He looked down on Malfoy, still laid out on the ground.

“Dead,” Poults announced. “But still has _some_ blood.”

And Harry paled as his stomach dropped. “ _Dead_? But—but the Muggle was still alive just a moment ago!”

Poults shook his head. “Maybe a moment ago. But this Muggle is dead.”

Harry let out a shaky exhale. It felt like the ground was falling away from him.

He had failed.

He looked up when Leverets placed a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest. What did the murderer look like?”

“They looked like the previous victim.”

Leverets’ eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

Harry nodded.

“Get your statement down, and then get some rest,” Leverets said. “Poults and I will deal with this. And Potter—get Malfoy in for questioning too.”

Malfoy dragged himself into a sitting position. “Fuck off, Leverets. I didn’t fucking do it.”

“Tell me that in the interrogation room,” Leverets said coldly. He turned to Poults who was covering the body with a white sheet, and the two of them, with the body, disapparated back to the DMLE.

“Apparate me to my flat. It’s the _least_ that you could do for me,” Malfoy demanded.

Harry did so, and went even as far as to help Malfoy into bed.

“I could have saved the Muggle,” Malfoy said abruptly. “If I had more blood.”

“You could have just taken another blood replenisher!” Harry snapped. “Why didn’t you send me a Patronus message?”

“I can’t cast a Patronus. No _happy memories_ ,” Malfoy sneered. “And blood replenishers take _hours_ to work.”

 _Hours_.

How many hours had it been since Harry told Malfoy to blood trace?

“I _knew_ it would happen at noon. That wasted, useless, chase of yours this morning...”

The accusation was clear. If it weren’t for Harry, Malfoy might have had enough blood to save the Muggle.

But Harry had insisted, and Malfoy had capitulated. Malfoy had spilled his blood twice already before noon. And the murderer slipped away from their fingers and they had another dead body on their hands.

Malfoy closed his eyes, deliberately closed his mouth.

And so Harry left, empty.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I do stuff on my tumblr. Like this [alternative sectumsempra scene drabble](https://bafflinghaze.tumblr.com/post/184767517958/prompt-by-withrainfall-an-alternative) which _doesn't_ have any blood in it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As each drop of blood left Draco’s body, self-disgust and anger took its place. People _looked_ at him and wanted to see him bleeding. He was nothing more than an instrument, unworthy of acknowledgement. 
> 
> Draco had his lines in the sand. Now he needed to _stand_.

“ _Ugh_ , Malfoy’s such a fucking _idiot_ ,” one of the Aurors complained. “Who the fuck apparates into the Ministry?”

“Exactly!” another Auror said, slapping the tea-room table. “How about right _outside_ the Ministry instead? But _clearly_ the fucker _wanted_ to a suspension.”

Harry bit back a scowl and quickly left the DMLE tea room with his coffee. He cast a quick _tempus_ and swore. Chugging down his coffee, he quickly walked to the DMLE lobby, arriving just as Malfoy arrived.

Terry Boot, who was leaning against the reception desk, gave Harry a nod. His eyebrows rose when he saw Malfoy. “Finally back?” he asked, a note of relief in his voice.

Malfoy’s eyes were flat. “No. I’m here for interrogation. Auror Leverets’ case.”

Boot winced. “Ah. Well, I don’t think it’s you, if that’s any comfort.”

“Thanks ever so,” Malfoy said drily. “Potter.”

Harry straightened. “Yeah, right this way.”

Auror Leverets was waiting outside the interrogation room with Auror Poults.

“We’ll handle it from here,” Leverets said dismissively.

“But—”

Malfoy grabbed Harry’s wrist and squeezed. “I can handle myself, Potter. Go save some kneazles.”

Unhappily, Harry let Malfoy walk into the interrogation room without him.

*

Sometimes, Draco wondered if everyone had forgotten that he had gone through rigorous Auror training too, and had only failed the Field Auror qualification on _psychological testing_. And in that, maybe Potter was right. Draco didn’t _care_ enough. It was impossible to save everyone, and Potter seemed to be going mad _trying_.

The interrogation’s first hour, then second hour passed. Draco answered the questions blandly; the little lies that Leverets used to try draw him out, the little intimidation techniques, they all failed because Draco knew, and he knew that he knew more than Leverets.

It was a flying memo that saved Draco from a third hour: it landed in front of Leverets with the distinct bright red colouring from Robards’ office.

“We’ll continue this later,” Leverets said, smirking.

Draco inclined his head. “If that is how you chose time to be spent.” He rose gracefully and left the room.

Potter was standing outside, his jaw tight. “How was it?”

Draco lifted an eyebrow. “Absolutely _brilliant_ , Potter.”

“Look, we need to really chat, properly,” Potter said lowly. “You can predict the next death, and I’ll _listen_. We can go to your flat, or my place—”

Draco leaned in. “Is that _all_ you want to do?”

Potter licked his lips.

“Malfoy! Hey, you’re still here,” came Boot’s voice.

Draco straightened calmly, smoothing down his robes. “Yes, Boot?”

Boot had a case file in his hand; he held out to Draco.

 _Ah_. Draco took it, flipping it open. _Missing: Rene Aspler, last seen four days ago_.

“Can you?” Boot asked.

Potter opened his mouth.

“Quite,” Draco said. “Let’s go.”

“I’m coming,” Potter said, stepping forward and puffing his chest out.

“Er, sure,” Boot said.

The three of them apparated to South England, to the home of Rene Aspler. Aspler’s housemate opened the door, relief on her face.

“Finally! Aurors!” she said, looking at all three of them, including Draco.

Even though Draco wasn’t in his Auror uniform.

She ushered them in, unloading all she remembered from Aspler’s last seen locations. She didn’t blink an eye when they all went into Aspler’s room, looking for a well-loved item.

“That,” she said, pointing to a gold galleon. “It’s her lucky coin. It’s normally always on her…Oh, I hope you find her soon.”

“We will,” Boot said reassuringly.

Once outside, Boot passed Draco the coin. Boot looked away politely; Potter looked at his boots, but Draco saw Potter’s glances back. It didn’t matter; Draco could enact the blood trace half asleep if pushed. Blood flowed from the cut in the Mark’s skull, curling into lines of runes around the coin. A beat of magic, the trace emerged.

“So. Close or not?” Potter said tersely, drawing his wand.

“There’s no rush,” Boot put in.

“Fairly,” Draco said. The trace was dark and fresh, fresher than someone missing for four days would suggest. In a solid pace, he followed it. The blood trace led them to a nondescript house within the same neighbourhood and terminated inside the house.

“Oh, good,” Boot said. “Let’s crack this case. Since you’re here—Potter?” He inclined his head towards the door.

Potter blinked, and nodded. “Sure.”

And Draco took a step back to let the _Aurors_ do their job.

Potter and Boot headed to the house. Boot knocked, and then forced himself into the house. Potter followed on his tail, the two vanishing into the relative gloom inside. The blood trace thickened and—

A witch emerged from the side gate. _Rene Aspler_.

Draco twisted, draw his wand, and missed the stunner over his head from the two wizards emerging from the neighbouring house.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Draco, and he wasn’t going to hold back this time.

Draco snarled out a spell that yanked at the blood inside the three approaching wixes. Their motion jerked, skin deforming. Draco threw out a _Stupefy_ at one of the wizards, and a _Petrifi_ _cus_ _Totalus_ at the other.

One wizard _down_ , the other dodged. The witch flung a blue spell that pulsed with red and green. With gritted teeth, Draco yanked up a bush to act as a shield lest it was a spell that could dissipate protegos. The spell caught, dissipated, Draco lit the bush on fire and sent it hurtling towards the witch. Adrenalin pumped through his veins as he jumped, missing the wizard’s stunner.

Draco was falling before he registered a fourth assailant coming from behind him.

*

“ _Hom_ _enum_ _R_ _evelio!_ ” Harry snapped out, annoyed when he and Boot couldn’t find Rene Aspler. The human revealing spell came out empty.

Empty inside the _house—_ it came back with three, then four, then five people just beyond the building.

“Malfoy!” Harry dashed back outside, threw a stunner wide and saw a group of witches and wizards disapparate right before his eyes with Malfoy.

“No— _fuck! Fuck!_ ” Harry looked around, trying to see _something_. The area was scuffed up, the garden ruined.

“Potter—what?”

Harry didn’t turn around to face to Boot. “He’s gone. Malfoy’s _gone_ and there was a group of them who took him.”

“What are we going to do? _Malfoy’s_ the only one who can find missing people!”

And so, the department had floundered in Malfoy’s absence. Harry gritted his teeth, clenched his fists. “Malfoy had to learn from somewhere, someone...” He flicked a glance at Boot.

“The old pureblood families have libraries,” Boot said slowly.

Harry lifted his head. “I’m going to Malfoy Manor.”

*

Draco woke up slumped forward. His arms were tugged back, sore, and chained to the wall. His leg was bleeding, and in the weak light from a small window near the ceiling, he could make out the stream of blood from his leg being directed into a nearby glass vessel.

The vessel was sickeningly almost-full.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of lightheadedness.

 _Thud-thud-thud_. Heavy footsteps coming down stairs.

Draco tried to lift his head. Blood rushed through his ears and spots danced across his eyes. He could make out a blurry wizard...who was familiar.

 _Auror Leverets_. _Heh. So this is how the potion spills..._

“Ah. Malfoy. You’re conscious. For now,” Leverets said, voice tight.

Draco’s head dropped. He squeezed his eyes shut, headache blooming across his temples.

“I didn’t want to do this to you,” Leverets said. “But you’ve forced my hand. Blood magic is illegal. Oh, I turned a blind eye when you were helping the department...bleeding like a pig.” A scuffle of steps, and Leverets’ shadow over Draco. “But you’ve crossed a line. Whether you’re the murderer, or the accomplice, I don’t _care_. You’re not hurting _anyone_ again.”

“Takes one to know one,” Draco rasped.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself with me,” Leverets growled. “I’m giving the Unspeakables your blood. _Oh_ , how they’ll twist your _special_ pure blood. They’ll use your blood to make an artefact for the department. And they _don’t_ need you.”

“What a _shame_ ,” Draco said, voice dripping with disdain. “Release me so that I can curse you to meet _Hel_.”

Leverets slammed a hand down on the back of Draco’s head, knocking his breath.

“Meet Hel yourself, Malfoy. This place is unplottable. _No one_ is going to find you. No one can help you.”

 _I don’t need help_.

Leverets moved away, heavy up the stairs. A door closed with a _bang_.

Draco’s pulse slowed.

*

“ _Malfoy Manor!”_

Fireplaces whizzed past dizzyingly, and the floo network spat Harry out onto a wide rug in an expansive, expensive room. A house-elf immediately appeared.

“Harry Potter! Sir!”

Harry coughed. “I need to see Mrs. Malfoy.”

The elf disappeared. Harry had just time to straighten his robes and vanish off some soot when the far door opened and Narcissa Malfoy glided in, face set in steely lines.

“Good afternoon, Auror Potter,” she said. There was a polite smile on her lips, but her eyes were cold. “Have you _finished_ with my son?”

“He’s been taken.”

The temperature dropped. Narcissa’s eyes narrowed.

“We were out on a mission. And these people attacked him and took him—”

“Leave, Auror Potter. _I_ shall deal with this.”

Harry jutted out his chin. “No. Are you going to do blood magic to track Malfoy?”

Narcissa’s countenance darkened. “ _Oh_ , you Aurors _love_ to bleed my only son dry. No, you would _never_ offer your own blood, would you? Miffy!” The same house-elf reappeared. “Escort Auror Potter _off my premises!_ ”

“No!” Harry jumped forward and grabbed her hands. “Look, I—I _need_ Malfoy—I need Draco. Look, I’ll offer my blood now! Use it to find Draco!”

Narcissa’s nostrils flared. “Release me, Auror Potter.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m coming with you.”

Narcissa stared at him, her eyes piercing. Harry looked back, unable to tell if she was doing Legilimency or not.

“Release me.”

Harry slowly let go.

Narcissa tossed her head and turned away. She held out her arm, pulling her sleeve back. With a sharp fingernail, she drew back a line. Blood rose out in a veil of red.

Harry sucked in a breath and took a step back as wind whipped up around her, producing a frenzied storm of blood, and the air became sharp with the tang of iron.

*

Draco breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth. His eyes snapped opened and he began to chant. His blood was no old-gods’ _ichor_. But it was magic, and it was _his_.

Slowly, called blood returned into his body: the fresher, the less tainted by the air, until Draco’s wooziness receded, just enough. A second touch of magic healed the cut where the blood had been escaping.

Draco’s pulse quickened.

Blood in the vessel rose up, splitting into multiple ribbons as Draco ordered it, round and round, swirling and spiralling.

 _My kin, my body, my blood,_ to me _. Protect ones own...and..._

Draco bowed his head and closed his eyes and closed his mouth.

The room around him exploded. Chains obliterated, bars and walls disintegrated: what _wasn’t_ him or his _destroyed_.

Draco pressed a hand down, clearing dust from the air and pushed himself to his feet. His head spun at the sudden movement, eyes not focusing.

But he had to keep moving. He staggered forward, not quite consciously seeing the stairs but _knowing_ they were there. Slowly, he trudged up. His heart pumped, harder and harder.

The door at the top of the stairs opened outward. Draco lifted his head. Leverets, shadowed against the brighter light beyond, held out his wand, point blank: “ _Stupefy!_ ”

*

Narcissa Malfoy chanted lowly, then louder and louder. A crack like thunder split the air, and all the blood vanished in a pulse of light.

Harry held his breath.

Narcissa was smirking. She held out a hand to Harry. Harry lurched forward and grabbed it. Breath escaped him as he entered the squeeze of apparition.

*

Draco didn’t _duck_ from the stunner. Instead, he swayed, slumping to the side of the staircase. The stunner sliced through his clothes but missed his skin. Draco reached inside his robes and grimaced. His ritual iron knife was missing. His wand, too.

“Step back down, Malfoy.”

 _No matter._ The skin on his Dark Mark was still tender. With a sharp scrap of nails, it began bleeding again.

“Don’t make me do this!” Leverets jabbed his wand forward.

Draco climbed the final steps. Blood began to spiral.

Leverets hissed. “You asked for it! _Confrigo!_ ”

“ _Protego!_ ” The magic pulsed through his hand, dragging blood droplets through skin, merging with the blood already in the air. Blood yanked itself from Draco’s arm to _hold_ the shield as Leverets’ spell exploded. He couldn’t hear the sound of his heartbeat. Blindly, as the world went dark around him, Draco propelled the mash of red blood and blue shield and smashed it against Leverets.

*

Harry and Narcissa landed in on pavement outside a row of townhouses. Narcissa dashed up the stairs and blasted down down the door. Harry followed her, coming onto a scene of destruction. An entire inner portion of the building was missing; and there was fire, and blue-and-angry-red and Auror Leverets, and _Malfoy_.

“ _Expulso!_ ” Narcissa shouted.

Leverets was blasted back, slamming up against the wall.

“ _Levicorpus!_ ” Harry quickly cast at Malfoy and dashed forward. Malfoy was unconscious, his arm and palm covered in blood. “ _Episkey!_ ” The wound closed, but there was still _so much blood_ and Malfoy was much too pale. Harry whipped his head around. “Mrs. Malfoy!”

Leverets stirred. “How—” His eyes alighted on Harry. “Potter!”

Narcissa stalked forward, her wand against Leverets’ throat. “I _tire_ of those wishing injury upon my son. I should slit your throat and salt the earth with your blood.”

“ _Murderer_ ,” Leverets hissed.

“Mrs. Malfoy!” Harry called again. “We need to take Malfoy to St. Mungos!”

Narcissa shot Harry a sharp glance. Her jaw tightened and she turned back to Leverets. “Thank your stars that Auror Potter is merciful. _Stupefy._ ” Leverets’ body slump over. With the slightest sigh, she glided over to Harry and Malfoy.

She knelt down, running her hand through Malfoy’s hair, all dirtied with dust.

“Mrs. Malfoy—”

“I would not sully Draco with the Healers at St. Mungos,” Narcissa said coolly. She rested a hand on Malfoy’s forehead, and a hand on his chest.

Harry sucked in a breath and nudged back as magic swelled up around the two Malfoys. Blood slid out of Narcissa’s skin, permeating into Malfoy as Narcissa spoke in an undertone in words Harry couldn’t catch.

A hint of colour returned to Malfoy’s cheeks, and he stirred. His eyes snapped opened, and they softened immediately upon seeing Narcissa.

“Mother.”

“Draco.”

Harry looked away uncomfortably.

“ _Accio_ Draco’s possessions,” Narcissa intoned. A wand and knife came whizzing over, both of which Narcissa caught deftly. Her eyebrows went up. “ _Must_ you use Bellatrix’s iron blade, Draco?”

Harry startled at the name, eyes snapping to the knife.

Malfoy pointedly didn’t look at Harry. “It amuses me, Mother.” With a grunt, he pulled himself into a sitting position.

“It would comfort _me_ if you desist from blood magic for at least the next week,” Narcissa said sternly. She gave Harry a pointed look. “If I hear even a _whisper_ if you encouraging my son to lose even a _drop_ of blood...”

“I understand, ma’am,” Harry said smartly.

Narcissa pinned him with a look. She wrapped her arms around Malfoy, and the two of them disapparated with a quiet _crack_.

Air rushed back into his lungs, finally relaxing.

Then Harry glanced to Leverets, and his muscles tightened up all over again. Feeling sick, Harry grabbed Leverets and apparated to the DMLE lockups.

*

It was midnight when Draco was alerted that a certain someone had apparated into his flat. _How_ Potter did it, Draco could not understand.

And the utter _presumptuousness_ rankled him. Draco pulled on his stiffest black robes and apparated from Malfoy Manor to his old flat. He caught Potter guiltily looking through Draco’s emptied cupboards.

“Want _more_ of my blood, Potter?” Draco growled.

Potter startled. “What? No.”

Draco tilted his head back, looking down at Potter. “ _No_?”

“With Leverets suspended, you have to help, Malfoy.”

“Well, I’m fucking _sor-ry_ but it’s _not_ going to happen. Find yourself another _pet_ dark wizard.”

Potter’s eyes darkened. “You use Bellatrix’s knife.”

Draco smirked. “Under my dear late aunt’s tutelage.”

“So you learnt from _her_. Not your mum and dad.”

Draco took a step closer, chest _almost_ bumping chest. “Oh Potter. I learnt from the two Black sisters who would teach me. My father is too _squeamish_ for it.”

Potter stuck out his chin. “I’m not.”

Draco raised one slow eyebrow, and caged Potter back. “Are you _sure?_ ”

“We _need_ you to track them down. I don’t want _another_ dead body,” Potter said. “And I’m going to listen to your arithmancy too.”

“But for that...I need to replenish my blood,” Draco said. Gently, he grasped Potter’s chin, and twisted his head to bare the column of his neck.

Potter acquiesced in the movement, but his stance remained solid, his eyes defiant as they looked back sidelong at Draco. “That won’t be a problem.”

Draco leaned in. “And how so, dear Potter?” Draco licked Potter’s neck, and scraped his teeth across the skin. A shiver when down Potter’s body. Draco smirked. “Hmm, if I bit down and drank your blood...” Draco breathed in Potter’s scent, mouthing at that sensitive skin around his ear.

Potter’s eyes fluttered, body tensing. “Your mum said you can’t use your blood. So use mine.”

Draco slammed Potter back against the wall, anger bursting out like a dam. “You _don’t_ know what you’re offering!” _No one_ offers. It wasn’t _done_. That was why so many wixes past and present _took_ others.

Potter jutted out his chin. “I _do_.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. And snorted. “Oh, of _course_. Self-sacrificing Harry Potter. You want the case solved that badly?”

“You do it all the time. It can’t be that bad,” Potter said as though it was nothing. “And you _know_ I want the case solved....and...” Bright green eyes stared at Draco. “We’re supposed to be working together. So I fully consent for you to use my blood. I _want_ you to use it. I’m _offering_.”

Something welled in Draco’s chest, lodging itself in Draco’s throat. Draco stared. He couldn’t think, for Potter’s words kept echoing in his head.

Potter bit his bottom lip. “I mean it.” His eyes were steady.

Draco’s heart beat pounded in his chest. Unable to bear it any longer, Draco leaned forward and kissed him, hot and wet. Potter’s glasses were in the fucking way. Draco leaned back just far enough to tug them off and throw them elsewhere. Potter blinked, eyes wide and dark, opening his mouth to speak. Which _wouldn’t_ do: Draco pressed his lips back on Potter’s, pressed their bodies together from hip to thigh. Draco could tell _exactly_ how hard Potter was. He shifted his hips, and the deep sound of Potter’s moan in his mouth made him stiffen. He did it again, clothed cock against clothed cock. Potter’s groans deepened, and a sense of vindication and satisfaction bubbled up Draco’s chest. He released Potter’s lips, and an increasingly familiar sweep of magic had their trousers open and cocks out. Draco crowded Potter further into the wall, the rough-soft slide of cock on cock was fucking divine.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Potter gasped, head tipping back.

“Oh, you just _wait_ ,” Draco hissed. He grabbed both with one hand, wanking them together. Each pull, each twist, had Potter’s breath stuttering, had Draco’s hips fucking up. It felt so _good_ , Potter’s cock was so _hot_ against his own. Fuck, he felt like he needed to get as close to Potter as possible, like he needed to crawl right under his skin—

“Yes, like _that_ ,” Potter’s eyes turned to Draco, staring.

Draco’s breath faltered. Eyes so close. Bodies so close, _touching_. Something in Draco’s stomach flip, twisted, as his chest tightened painfully.

Potter’s eyes pressed into a small frown. “Malfoy?”

“Just drowning in your eyes,” Draco said harshly, before he could think. The corner of Potter’s lip curled up—and so Draco kissed it, mouth open. Potter immediately slipped his tongue in, slick and hot.

 _Fuck_ , he could smell Potter. He could _feel_ Potter. The shift of his body, the tingle of his magic. Fucking _Potter_ with his saviour complex and his lips and that _mouth_. A groan welled up from Draco’s chest as he wanked their cocks faster and faster. Sensation spiralled as Draco chased it. He gasped as he came, unable to keep kissing. Potter’s body started to shudder, head falling against Draco’s shoulder as his come joined Draco’s.

Draco breathed heavily, leaning against Potter in return. Except Potter wriggled, shifting Draco away, and Draco started to draw back, throat closing as a sense of betrayal tried to crawl up.

Instead, Potter cradled Draco’s head and kissed him, and it was so fucking gentle compared to everything they’d ever done before that Draco _just_...

 _What_? Draco couldn’t stop thinking. _What are you doing? What am I feeling?_ But he couldn’t help but indulge Potter in the kiss, continuing until both of them had to stop to breathe. Potter had a dopey smile on his face. Draco bet he had one too, but he just couldn’t stop looking at Potter.

At least, until he felt how their come was drying on his hand. With a grimace, he cast a cleaning charm on his hand and on their cocks, and he and Potter tucked themselves away. Draco summoned Potter’s glasses and handed them back.

And with that, Potter transformed back into _Potter_. Potter cleared his throat. “So, tomorrow? I’ll come by here—or Malfoy Manor? And you can use my blood, and I’ll try to remember to bring a blood replenisher.”

Draco stepped back, nodding with a poise he didn’t quite feel. “Here. My mother lives at the Manor.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon, then. Sleep well, Malfoy. We’re going to catch our killer.” Potter nodded again, and flooed away.

Draco rubbed at his chest, staring at where Potter was a moment ago. But the empty floo held no answers to Draco’s odd physical reactions.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every human was connected by the blood in their veins, by their breath in the air, by their existence upon the Earth. 
> 
> With just the right tools, Draco could reveal this web. 
> 
> One of those tools was Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to [AkaShika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaShika) for the Welsh.

The crack of someone apparating in broke the quiet of Draco’s flat. Without looking up from his equations and papers, he asked, “How smart is the killer?”

“A lot?” came Potter’s voice. “They made an alternative version of Polyjuice. And they can do all that arithmancy like you.” Potter paused. “Which is pretty amazing.”

Draco’s head snapped up, something in his chest. Potter’s expression was too guileless to be fake.

“Quite so,” Draco said gruffly. He raised a brow at the large basket in Potter’s hands. “Planning on a picnic, Potter?”

Potter bit his bottom lip, but the sides of his mouth went up as he stepped over to Draco. “Actually, it’s for you,” he said, holding out the basket.

Draco automatically perked up, putting down his quill.

 _But why would Potter_ give _me anything?_

Draco narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand back. “Open it for me.”

Potter shrugged. “Okay.” He put the basket on top of Draco’s work on the coffee table and pulled back the top gingham cloth. He took out vials of blood replenishers first. This was followed by parcels of wrapped meat, dark leafy greens, and a few bars of dark chocolate.

Draco pressed his lips together tightly and stared at the offerings. This was _minor_ compared to the blood offering. The blood replenishers, Draco could understand. But _chocolate?_ It was so—so damn _suspicious_.

The back of his throat felt tingly, heart felt light, mind remembering that kiss yesterday.

Potter stopped. “That’s it. I owed you.”

Draco’s attention snapped back to Potter. With a wave of his wand, the items all returned into the basket. He jerked his head. “Leave them in the kitchen,” he said dismissively.

Draco looked back at his papers. “If our killer is intelligent enough, they might strike in a non-optimal time and location lest we be there.”

At the corner of his eye, he saw Potter taking a seat down on the sofa. “That means we’d have to track them multiple times.”

Draco looked up. “Second thoughts, Potter?”

Potter immediately shook his head. “It’s simply not ideal. We should bring along another Auror for backup.”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Draco snapped.

Potter flinched. “I’d be weakened. You’re definitely weak, admit it.” Potter crossed his arms. “How about Boot? He seems to like you enough.”

 _Oh, he likes my ability well enough_ , Draco thought sourly. But there was only so much Boot could look away from. Eyes were _always_ drawn to Harry Potter.

“No.” He stood up, standing taller than Potter. “You _really_ don’t know what your offer meant, did you?”

Potter leaned back, blinking at him. “Course I do.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. Took a step towards Potter. “Using the blood from others is illegal. _Extremely._ It’s utterly prohibited by the law.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m still consenting.”

Anger and disbelief at Potter’s utter stupidity and naivety burned in Draco’s stomach, up his chest.

“You have _no_ idea what I could do to you with your blood,” he hissed. “I could string you like a puppet! I could torture you. I could find you no matter where you hide. I could make your body attack _itself_ until you’re fucking _inside-out_.”

Potter snorted and rolled his eyes. “As if you could be worse than _Voldemort_ , who had a fucking connection to my _head_. Who, you know, I _defeated_.”

Draco scoffed. “With an _expelliarmus_.”

Potter raised his eyebrows, shifting up. “Can _you_ duel wandless?”

“My knife is sufficient,” Draco retorted. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“Then don’t underestimate me, either. And _oh, by the way_ , you _never_ thanked me for my testimony at your War Trial.”

Draco took a step back, feeling cold. “Is _that_ you want from me? Some empty air? I’ll _give_ you some if you want it so damn much—”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play naive, Potter. _Actions_ destroy words.” He sneered. “Surely you’ve meet a _single_ politician.”

But damned-Potter became pensive and _knowing_. “So that’s why you’re an Auror? Because then your actions could make up for your past.”

“Not at all.” Draco drew his robes around him and purposefully moved back to his seat by his papers. “And we are _not_ bringing in another Auror.”

Except, if the killer had been keeping even just a _fraction_ of the blood they took, then maybe Draco _had_ to acquiesce and figure how to make it look as though he was using his own blood instead of Potter’s. Draco resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “If only we had something like the _Elder Wand_...”

Potter made a choked sound.

Draco’s eyes snapped to Potter, who was leaning back into the sofa, which meant he was sitting _up_ a moment ago.

Potter, who wasn’t quite looking back at Draco.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “ _You_. You know about the Elder Wand.”

Potter stilled. It would have looked _less_ suspicious if Potter had squirmed. “I’ve heard of it,” Potter finally said, eyes darting at Draco. “Who hasn’t, right?”

“And the cloak? Or the resurrection stone?” Draco pressed. “ _That_ would have made my job a _lot_ easier down at the DMLE Morgue.” Draco levelled Potter with a sharp look. “Tell me,” he ordered. “Every piece of information can help.”

Potter looked away, jaw tightening.

“Fine. But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“An Unbreakable Vow? Or a Blood Pact?”

Potter grimaced. “No, not that far. I wouldn’t force either. But you have to promise.” Potter turned back to him and met his gaze squarely.

 _So fucking naive_. But yet, at the same time…Draco felt faint.

“You trust me.”

Potter nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

Draco yielded. “I promise not to communicate any of the information you are about to tell me.”

Potter nodded, and his shoulders pulled back, relaxing. He gave a sudden grin. “Well, _you_ used to be Master of the Elder Wand.”

Draco scowled. “How? That’s _impossible_ , I would have _known_ —”

“You disarmed Dumbledore when he was the Master of the Elder Wand. Later, I disarmed you...and no one has been able to disarm me.”

Draco sucked a breath through his teeth, viewing Potter with new eyes. The _Master of the Elder Wand_ was sitting on his _sofa_. “Then what of the cloak and the resurrection stone?”

“I threw away the stone. And the cloak’s _mine_.”

 _Oh. Fuck._ “You’re the Master of Death.”

“Don’t think so? I’m ageing, aren’t I? Except for the one time I died, I guess. Your mum lied to Voldemort for me after I came back.” Potter shrugged.

Draco felt coldness past through him. Something bubbled in his gut. “You died.”

Potter nodded.

With one sweep of his hands, all his papers collected into a pile on the floor.

“Our killer fashions themselves as some kind of life-earth-death-sacrifice deity,” Draco said. He shot a dark smirk at Potter. “They consider themselves as some kind of _arbiter_ or _master_ of life and death. Unlike them, you _are_. Oh, Potter, _your blood_ is our fucking game changer. You _really_ should be more careful who you give your blood to.”

Potter blinked. “Right.”

“I need _you_ to fetch a piece of flesh from all the previous victims, preferably around their _diffindo_ cuts. Gather some of their items, too.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Not too squeamish, are you?”

“It’ll be hard doing that undetected,” Potter warned. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, me?” Draco shrugged one shoulder. “I’m merely about to design and create an entirely new spell that will use your special blood to track down the cause-of-death of our victims. _Easy_.”

Potter snorted, a half grin on his face. “I’m sure it’ll be easy for you.” He stood up. “I’ll be back when I can.”

“ _Any_ time before tomorrow is preferred. Bring caffeine and wide-eye.” And with that, Draco summoned a new sheet of parchment and started throwing down the new equations whirling around his mind.

*

After Malfoy’s blatant dismissal, Harry headed straight to the Auror department. He’ll have to go to the Morgue during everyone else’s lunch break; but first, he could retrieve the victims’ previous addresses.

He was a few meters away from his office when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Harry turned round, knocking off the hand.

Robards’ expression was sombre. “Potter, a quick meeting.”

“Sir,” Harry nodded.

Once they were inside Robards’ office, Robards motioned Harry to take a seat, while Robards leaned against his desk.

“The bloodless murders. Leverets’ suspension has come at a bad time.”

“That was his own fault.”

“Careful with your tone,” Robards warned. He stood up and paced round his desk. “According to Leverets, Malfoy is our biggest lead.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “With all due respect, you’re going to talk about Malfoy with _me?_ ”

“ _Junior_ Auror Potter,” Robards said, voice becoming sharp. “I don’t _care_ how deep your hands are in Shacklebolt’s pockets. I _don’t_ play his favourites.”

Harry’s jaw tightened. “No, you play your own personal biases. I think Malfoy should be put on the case _with_ me.”

Robards’ entire countenance darkened. “Are you implying that I’m _wrong_? I’ve have decades of experience, Potter. I’ve _seen_ young wizards like Draco Malfoy. He _failed_ the psychological tests to become a full Auror because his innate sense of morality is virtually non-existent! He merely wanted the job for _fame!_ Stay away from him, Potter, or he’ll slit your throat and use _your_ blood.”

Harry shook his head. The more Robards raged about Malfoy, the more Harry wanted to stand up for him. “If it was only for fame, then why did Malfoy stay as a Desk Auror for so many years? Malfoy’s a wasted talent. I hope the Hitwizards give him an offer.” Harry stood, revelling in Robards’ spluttering.

“ _Potter_ —!”

Harry glanced over his shoulder, one hand on the door. “Is there anything else? The bloodless murders aren’t just going to stop by themselves. And you’re not helping.”

“Do you _stake_ your job that Malfoy is not associated with the murderer?”

“Yes,” Harry said immediately.

Robards’ eyes narrowed. “Then bring him in on the case if you so wish. But if another murder occurs...you’ll be suspended. And the public will know _all_ about it.”

“The fact that you were an Auror during Voldemort’s days _shows_ ,” Harry spat. He threw the door open with a slam and marched out.

*

“Took you long enough, Potter.”

Harry’s eyes snapped to Malfoy, but Malfoy was still focused on his spell making and couldn’t see Harry’s face, and therefore couldn’t see Harry’s expression—which he had no idea what it looked like after his chat with Robards.

“Yeah, well, bureaucracy,” Harry offered. “Also, dinner.” He levitated the items Malfoy had requested over to him.

Malfoy looked up, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “How competent of you, Potter. And _domestic_ , too.”

Harry rolled his eyes, his own lips curving up in response. “Mate. You gotta _trust_ me. Dinner’ll be done in half-an-hour, and I _won’t_ wait for you.”

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. “Very well.”

Rolling his eyes again, Harry moved into the kitchen area and prepared food for the long night ahead.

*

The next day approached, still dark, cloudy and cold.

Draco’s body was wired, his eyes heavy from the lack of sleep. Potter, at least, seemed perky enough from napping in Draco’s bed while Draco worked through the night perfecting the spell.

Draco glanced again at the sky. They needed _just_ the moment before dawn, when the separation of night and day was murky, when the separation between life and death was muddied. And they stood at the center of the ring of old stones of the Giant’s Dance. Crumbled, broken, missing as they may be, trespassed by muggles naming it Stonehenge as they have; but the ancient paths of magic remained.

A beat later, Draco drew out his ritual knife. Potter extended his arm, pulling back his sleeve, and met Draco’s gaze squarely, green glowing in the pre-dawn.

“I, Harry James Potter, Master of Death, hereby consent for you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, to take and use my blood.” The words crackled with magic, and red sheen flashed across Draco’s knife.

Draco made the cut. The iron drew blood eagerly, deep red soaking the blade. With his other hand, Draco drew the runes with his wand, using the blood to encircle the dead flesh and once-loved items of their five victims.

Draco didn’t need to call on any old gods for this particular spell. Not when he had the Master of Death himself standing in front of him, willing. “ _Sy'n galw eu hunain—_

“ _Who calls themself,_

_False fools gold,_

_A Master of Life._

_Whose hand has laid,_

_Upon these once-lived,_

_And struck them dead._

_We seek you,_

_With the righteous blood,_

_Of the true Master of Death._ ”

Rays of dawn pierced through heavy clouds, lighting up dark red blood an opalescent crimson rose. For a moment, the air glittered with suspended magic, a glow that spread, sweeping rays outward through the gates of ancient stone.

Draco’s eyes snapped to Potter’s just as the blood disintegrated. The pull of the connection was immediate. Draco knew in Potter’s eyes that he could see the blood trace too.

Knife tucked away, a whispered word to heal Potter’s cut while Potter downed a blood replenisher. Then, Potter took out his broom. Draco mounted first, and Potter got on behind him, arms wrapped themselves around Draco’s waist. Draco cast the disillusion charm over them, and waited a moment for Potter to adjust.

Then, Draco fixed his focus on the blood trace, and they lifted off.

Behind them, was the sun. In front, grey clouds and light crowning greens and long, deep cast shadows. The rough transition of light-dark moved fast across the landscape, weakening the blood trace.

Draco tugged one of Potter’s arms. Potter immediately plastered himself against Draco’s back, warm.

But there was no time to enjoy. Draco kicked the broom past its safety speed limiters and chased the blurry line of dawn across the country.

*

Harry stumbled off the broom and glanced around. “Where are we?” They had landed on a ridge of deep green hills and grey cliffs, a line of stairs along the top leading to the stone remains of a castle.

“Tintagel Castle, Cornwall,” came Malfoy’s voice, still disillusioned. “Merlin’s Cave lies beneath.”

“Hitting _all_ the tourist spots today,” Harry said. “Chanctonbury Ring, next?” He almost jumped when Malfoy suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Let’s _go_.”

Harry caught sight of the thickened blood trail and nodded grimly.

Malfoy led him off the main path and to the cliff edge. The blood trail went straight down into crashing waves.

“Merlin’s Cave appears at low tide. Stand still, Potter. _Impervius Totalus!_ ” They both got back onto the broom. Once Malfoy cast a bubble-head charm around both their heads, they descended the cliff.

Now, Harry could see the dark maws of caves in the brief moments as the waves receded. Gritting his teeth, Harry braced himself as Malfoy dove down.

There was only darkness and water-that-slid-off and the pulsing red blood trail. Harry caught the brief impression of solid rock ahead of them, heart jumping up his throat as they flew right through, wards zinging against his bones. There was a burst of light, no water, and a huge cavern that glittered and shone.

A figure stood at the edge of concentric spell circles. Where the blood trail ended. Whose robes floated and waved in no wind. Who turned and looked at them with a face that was the void.

With shock, Harry realised that their disillusion charm had been stripped away. Malfoy landed them down with a thud.

“ _Who dares trespass?_ ” The voice echoed supernaturally.

Harry raised one hand. “Aurors. Put your hands out.”

“This is no place for humans.”

“ _Pretending_ to be a god does not make you one,” Malfoy drawled. “Have you learnt nothing from past Dark Wizards?”

“I am no wizard.” The figure’s hands rose, robes billowing around them. Magic thickened, crackling, keening.

“Witch or wix, then,” Harry said, drawing his wand. Energy sparked at the tip as Harry pointed it towards the killer. “Last chance—”

“You trespass! _Diffindo!_ ”

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

_BOOM!_

Harry’s body rocked back at the unnatural force of his own spell, red slamming into the blueish diffindo.

Malfoy darted forward. “ _Stupefy!_ ”

“ _Protego!_ ” the killer snapped.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yep, using spells like a wix,” he snorted. “You’re _really_ not trying hard to fake being a god, are you?”

The figure gave a sigh. “Lay down your arms, Harry Potter. You know not what you have stumbled upon. This...is for the greater good of the Earth itself.”

Harry gagged at the words ‘the greater good’. “ _Stupefy!_ ”

“ _Protego_. My sincerest apologies... _Diffindo Multus!_ ”

Harry gritted his teeth, rolling in a dodge. Behind him, the cave wall shattered at multiple places.

“Cover me,” Malfoy suddenly said, appearing at Harry’s side. His eyes were fixed forward, but his hands were taking out the flesh and items of the victims.

“ _Protego!_ ” Harry shouted against a silver-blue spell.

Malfoy nodded distractedly. “Perfect.”

Harry darted a glance at him. Malfoy was rolling up his sleeve. “Use my blood, you fucking idiot.”

“Don’t worry, Potter,” Malfoy said dismissively.

Harry grunted and snapped out another _protego_. “Malfoy. I basically _promised your mother!_ ”

Malfoy grimaced. He drew his knife. “Fine. Quick.”

Harry stuck out his non-wand arm, _protego_ held up in front of him. A blast knocked him back, and he gave a hiss of pain when Malfoy’s knife dug a little deeper.

“All the more blood,” Malfoy muttered, drawing it out. “Distract them.”

“Yessir,” Harry snorted.

Their killer was _strong_. Each spell _diffindo_ came down like a _confrigo_. The void for a face made it harder for Harry to read their intentions.

But their killer _wasn’t_ a good duelist. Harry snapped out a series of spells in quick succession, to stun and to distract. The Jelly Legs jinx hit, but the killer, floating as they were, did not fall.

Harry pressed forward. The air became thicker with magic, so thick it was hard to breathe. Sure, it powered Harry’s next spells, but it also hindered the very movements he needed to make.

“How dare you!” The killer shot past Harry towards Malfoy.

Harry spun round, shooting a stunner that had the killer veering off course. Malfoy was surrounded by a sphere of the lightest pink of thinned blood, that was growing and growing. Harry dashed forward, shot another stunner at the killer. The killer turned towards him with a grunt of frustration. Harry quickly slid between them and Malfoy.

“Can’t we be reasonable about this?” Harry tried.

“You would not understand the greater things at play!” the killer’s voice rose to a crescendo.

Malfoy’s sphere passed through Harry like an electric charge. The air lightened, magic fizzled eagerly across Harry’s skin.

“ _No!_ ” the killer screeched, arms sweeping. “This magic is not yours!”

It wasn’t Harry’s. But it wasn’t the killer’s, either. Harry snapped his wand forward, magic in the air following his path. “ _EXPELLIARMUS!_ ”

The killer was blasted back, wand flung towards Harry.

Malfoy stepped up to Harry. “ _Incarcerous_.” Red chains appeared around the killer in sphere, tightening around billowing robes until there was a human figure beneath. Malfoy strode forward. “ _Finite Incantatum. Veritas_.”

The void disappeared, revealing the killer’s face: a pale witch, with wavy brown hair. Harry didn’t recognise her.

The killer stuck out her chin defiantly. “It was for the good of the _world!_ And that magic wasn’t yours!”

“It wasn’t yours, either,” Malfoy smirked. “It belonged to those you killed.”

“Of course it wasn’t mine!” the witch snapped. “That magic is for the Earth! The Earth _needs_ it!”

“And yet, you didn’t sacrifice yourself.”

The killer’s face twisted into a snarl. “The cause _needs_ me. You’re a pureblood! Magic has been fading. _This_ is the only way we can stop that, and save the Earth!”

“If just one-in-a-hundred people sacrificed a measure of their blood, much more would have been achieved than your measly murders,” Malfoy said icily. “How utterly _inefficient_ of you.” He levelled his wand at the witch, who glared back defiantly. “ _Stupefy_.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief as the witch slumped, unconscious and not dead. He grinned when Malfoy turned to him, heart racing and giddy. “We did it!”

But Malfoy’s face darkened. “You’re injured.”

Harry blinked. “What?” He looked down, and something on his side twinged. Harry tugged off his outer red Auror cloak. There was a sharp cut across his hip, dark blood seeping out. “Huh.”

Malfoy stepped over, forcing Harry’s arm back and away from his side. “Hold still,” Malfoy ordered. His wand traced the wound, a low mutter of Latin beneath his breath.

Harry tried not to shiver as Malfoy’s magic seeped into his skin, flesh tightening and skin sealing. The blood stains vanished next, shirt re-stitching together.

“There,” Malfoy said, taking a step back. He turned his head away, profile to Harry. “This here ends our collaboration—”

 _It won’t end here_.

Harry yanked Malfoy towards him and placed a kiss on Malfoy’s open mouth.

“Mmffp—”

Harry kissed him harder, wrapping his arms around him.

“ _Hmpf_.” One of Malfoy’s hands into his Harry’s hair, the other digging into Harry’s recently-injured hip. He bit down on Harry’s bottom lip, and the pain, the tang of blood, the _magic_ , set Harry’s lips afire. A low moan pulled itself from Harry’s throat. Malfoy’s tongue had slipped in, slick and heavy against Harry’s own. Their bodies were pressed together, and Malfoy felt _hot_ even through all his layers.

Fingers scratched his scalp, tugged on his hair, tingles that rippled down his neck, his throat. Blood filled his cock. Harry pushed forward, slowly rubbing himself against Malfoy.

Malfoy pulled Harry’s hair back sharply, and Harry gasped as the sharp pleasure-pain.

“ _Down_ ,” he ordered, pushing Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s legs folded, his back landing on cushion-charmed ground. Harry barely noticed the chill before Malfoy came down, cloak drifted down over them both. He nudged Harry’s legs apart, slotting neatly in between them, groin against groin. Arms braced on either side of Harry’s head, Malfoy dipped down, tongue dipping into the curve of Harry’s ear.

“ _Take us out,_ ” Malfoy growled, voice going right to Harry’s cock. Harry obeyed immediately. He scrunched his eyes, a shot of happiness when he remembered the spell to undo Malfoy’s fussy trousers.

 _Oh fuck._ Malfoy’s cock felt _so_ familiar in Harry’s hand, and his heart ached. He wrapped his hand around both, and Malfoy’s lips moved from Harry’s ear to his mouth and—

A moan welled up his throat.

It was _hot_. Harry fucked his hips up in his hand, every ridge of Malfoy’s cock against his. Malfoy’s hips pushed down, the back of Harry’s hand rubbing against Malfoy’s body at every tug, every twist. Precome slicked Harry’s thumb, Malfoy’s entire body jerking every time Harry swiped his slit.

Malfoy’s tongue wrapped itself around Harry’s, sliding above, below, around. He couldn’t think, could barely kiss back for how Malfoy’s tongue was driving him _wild_.

Harry’s breath harshened, throat closing up as heat filled his cock. Blindly, Harry reached out with his free hand, hugging round Malfoy’s back. Malfoy groaned, vibrations sliding across Harry’s lip, pouring into his mouth. Malfoy’s head pulled back, an “ _oh-fuck”_ dropping from his lips as his hips grinding down.

Harry rubbed faster and faster and _faster_ and then Malfoy’s cock was pulsing against Harry’s, a growl and gasp—and _fuck_ Harry was coming, so fucking hard. Harry throw his head back, wanking them both through it, until there was no more come, until Malfoy slumped down, panting.

Harry slumped back, breathless.

“You have good hands,” Malfoy breathed against his ear, voice hoarse and rough. Harry’s cock valiantly twitched. He pushed Malfoy over so that they laid on their sides, legs entangled.

Harry relaxed, a hand absently stroking their cocks. “Then come over to my place and we can do this again.”

Malfoy’s eyes darted away. “Another rendezvous, then.”

Harry’s heart ached. “Don’t. Malfoy.” Harry placed his hand on Malfoy’s hip, ignoring the come on his fingers, and tugged him closer.

Malfoy’s eyes snapped back, searching. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. “Don’t think about it too much,” Harry advised. “Just...do what feels right.”

Malfoy shifted closer. “And fucking with your arch-rival feels _right._ ”

Harry smirked. “Hey, he’s pretty damn fit.”

“Fit men are worth a Knut,” Malfoy said.

Harry rubbed Malfoy’s hip. “Don’t be so _insecure_ , Malfoy. Didn’t take you to be _scared_ of a _relationship_.” He smirked when Malfoy glared at him.

“Chocolate, home cooked meals. All we’re missing is _flowers_ ,” Malfoy said.

Harry’s smirk widened. “I _knew_ I forgot something.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and drew his wand. An intensive cleaning charm followed, leaving Harry feeling quite refreshed. “Let’s hope our killer remained stunned.”

Harry groaned, pushing himself up. He held out his hand to help Malfoy up too. Luckily, the killer was still slumped, unconscious.

“Let’s take her to the Ministry, then.”

Malfoy took a step away, hand slipping from Harry’s. “I would prefer not to,” he said coolly. “I’m still suspended.”

Harry winced. “Err. Actually, I sort-of-got-Robards-to-say-you-could-be-on-the-case?”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “Did he write that down officially?”

Harry winced again. “I guess not.”

Malfoy quirked up a corner of his lips. “I’ll leave it _you_ to rub my unofficial involvement in his face.”

Except, Malfoy’s smile didn’t feel quite _genuine_. Harry slumped. “Then...” He sighed. “I’ll see you later.”

Harry’s mood plummeted when Malfoy left. But Harry had a job to do. He cast another _incarcerous_ at the killer and side-alonged her to the DMLE.

The guard at the DMLE lockups gave Harry a curious look. “Who do you have there?”

Harry shrugged. “Just the bloodless murderer.”

The guard’s mouth dropped opened, and he shook his head in wonder. “Let me get you a cell for her. Huh, I don’t know why I’m surprised. You’re _Harry Potter_ after all.”

Harry forced a smile on his face. He waited until he had deposited the killer into a secure cell before dropping the next words on the guard: “Actually, Auror Draco Malfoy was the one who tracked her down...”

  


 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter’s offer was momentous. For dark is the blood taken by force, and potent is the blood willingly given.

“Potter!” Boot waved Harry over to the DMLE tea room. Almost two dozen Aurors had packed in with their mugs of tea and 3pm snacks, clustering around the wireless on the central table.

“ _And now we move onto the Bloodless Murders. Has there been another death?_ ” came the voice of the radio presenter.

“ _Then your listeners can relax. As Head Auror, I can confirm that the Bloodless Murderer had been arrested early yesterday morning,_ ” Robards’ voice crackled. “ _Our highly trained Aurors tracked the murderer to their base of operations._ ”

“ _Who were the Aurors who finally captured this bloodthirsty killer?_ ”

“ _I am unable to reveal their names for their safety. However, rest assured that they have all be recognised for their excellent work in keeping our country safe._ ”

“Yeah _right_ ,” Harry snorted, unable to listen a moment longer to Robards. “If so, why is Malfoy still suspended?”

“Wait, so Malfoy really tracked down the Bloodless Murderer?” Boot asked.

“Yes. Malfoy tracked down the Bloodless Murderer.” Harry turned and addressed all the other Aurors there. “And _together_ , he and I arrested her. I bet most of us here have a case that was solved with Malfoy help. He was bloody suspended for saving a bunch of _children._ If that’s how we treat people—then _fuck this and fuck Roba—_ ”

“What’s this?”

Harry turned around. “Head Auror. _Just_ the person I wanted to see.”

Robards glared at him, and he glared at the other Aurors. “What are you all doing? Get back to work. Potter— _my office_.”

Harry threw a cocky grin at the other Aurors and sauntered after Robards into his office. Robards slammed the door behind him.

“Stirring mutiny in _my_ department, Potter?” Robards snarled.

“Unable to _read_ my report, Robards?” Harry threw back. “Malfoy’s been an integral part of our department. You can’t keep him suspended like this!”

“I questioned the murderer myself. She saw Malfoy use _your_ blood. Suspension is the _least_ of his worries!”

“Then you’d know that what Malfoy did was bloody _miles_ away from what the murderer did. I _offered_ Malfoy. I consented.”

Robards’ face twisted into a grimace. “ _Consent_? You’re a fucking idiot, Potter.”

Harry’s throat tightened with the effort _not_ to clock Robards on his fucking nose. “You said _nothing_ when Malfoy was cutting himself.”

Robards smirked. “Young people cut themselves all the time.”

Harry stared at him, incredulous. “Oh. _Fuck you_. It’s been _weeks_ since Malfoy was suspended. You’ve done _nothing!_ If it weren’t for Malfoy, we’d have another dead body and _you’d_ be in a media conference trying to calm the public! Instead of using Malfoy’s success to push _your_ agenda!”

Robards’ eyes narrowed, his lip curled up into a sneer. “As of Leverets’ suspension, there are only two official Aurors on the case. You and Poults. Malfoy should be _disciplined_ for working on an Auror case while suspended.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “...You’re obstructing the course of law enforcement and justice, Robards.”

“Is that a _threat?_ ”

“It is. If you take it as one.” Harry went to the door. “Good day, Head Auror.” Harry shut the door on Robards’ irritated face.

Boot was waiting just outside. “How was it?” he whispered.

“I’m going to write the best fucking defence report on why Malfoy should be re-instated,” Harry said. “And then Robards can _choke_ on it.”

“I _did_ think it wasn’t exactly fair that Malfoy was only a Desk Auror,” Boot admitted. “I’ll help.”

“Cheers, Boot. Say, can you gather all the cases that Malfoy played a key role in—”

*

Draco had caught the tail end of Robards’ announcement when he arrived at the Ministry Atrium. Mindful of the deep blue letter in Draco’s pocket, Draco skirted the crowds and descended to Level Nine.

A line of light on the floor appeared as he stepped out, leading him to one distinguishable door along the corridor. The door slid open before him and closed seamlessly behind him. The room was sleek, and the walls were enchanted windows revealing London on one side, and the dark expanse of the night sky on the other.

“I am Head Unspeakable Mirza,” said the witch sitting behind the desk at the center of the room. She cleared up the scattered papers on her desk; brown eyes gave Draco a solemn look. “We have heard of your exploits...and more.”

“Hardly a secret,” he murmured, the corner of his lip lifting in a dry smile. From Potter, to the Blood Murderer herself, to every Auror in the department.

Mirza smiled briefly, eyes crinkling. “Indeed. Draco Malfoy, your expertise is of Unspeakable calibre. Have you considered our offer?”

“Why _now_?”

Mirza shrugged. “Before, you were merely using the same blood spell. But your recent work with the Bloodless case went beyond that. What you did, no one has done before. And we would _love_ to know what you did.” She leaned forward. “Draco Malfoy, you are _wasted_ in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Draco tilted his head. “Auror Leverets never came through with that galleon of my blood. Quite a shame for the Unspeakables who wanted to study it.”

Mirza frowned. “We haven’t contacted any Auror about the acquirement of blood, let alone yours. That was no detailed in your charges against Auror Leverets.”

“It was the least important of worries.”

Mirza pursed her lips. “I would implore you not to be discouraged. Ethics in the Department of Mysteries is taken seriously—post war, you understand. If some Unspeakable has violated that, they will be put through disciplinary measures.” She gave him a look. “That was detailed in the contract terms in the letter.”

The letter had also detailed office space and salary. It was much, much more than what Draco had as a Desk Auror.

But Draco didn’t need money.

Draco gave a wry smile. “I appreciate your offer, but my answer is no.”

“Is there nothing I can tempt you with?” Mirza asked. “Nothing that can encourage you to write up your new spells?”

“There are things that are unethical to write up as public knowledge,” Draco said.

Mirza sighed. “Our offer to you remains,” she said. “If you ever find the Auror department _unsuitable_ then we are more than happy to have you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Indulge me in this, Draco Malfoy.” She pulled out a file and slid it across the desk.

Draco picked it up and flicked through it. To his surprise, it was the transcripts of Potter’s and Robards’ interrogations with the Bloodless Murderer. He glanced up. Mirza gave him an encouraging nod, so he scanned through the notes.

And snorted.

Mirza hummed. “Do you think the Bloodless Murderer’s actions worked, despite the unethical nature?”

“Oh, it should have worked, to a fashion,” Draco said. “But it was a poor mimicry of what used to be done. Back then, wixes spilled their own blood.” Draco closed the file and slid it back to Mirza. “And she insisted that she wasn’t a dark witch. But she didn’t account for the fact that her blood was _stolen_ rather than given.”

“No, then,” Mirza surmised. She gave him a rueful smile. “You won’t join us.”

Draco shook his head and stood up. “I have my own business to attend.”

Mirza stood too and held her hand out. “It was a pleasure meeting you,” she said genuinely.

Draco inclined his head. “A pleasure. I’ll see myself out.”

For a brief moment, as Draco entered the lift, he wondered what Potter was doing. But ultimately, he exited at the Atrium and went on alone.

*

Harry frowned as he re-examined the Edison Hemslock case, flicking over to the mug shots of the three attackers. Under questioning, Harry had found that they weren’t related to the Hemslock’s kidnap at all; and the questioning of the two witches Malfoy had captured confirmed that.

Harry squinted. One of the faces look particularly familiar.

 _Oh fuck_.

Harry had seen that face when among those who captured Malfoy!

Harry scrambled for what Boot had given him for Rene Aspler’s case—closed, as she’d apparently turned up again a few days later.

But Malfoy had led them to Aspler. She _had been_ in that house.

She hadn’t been bait in the way Hemslock had been.

She had been the trap.

Harry jumped to his feet and went to pound on Robards’ office door.

“ _What now?_ ” Robards growled. Harry could see a couple of Aurors inside his office.

“Have you questioned Leverets yet over his kidnap of Malfoy?”

“No,” Robards said shortly. “It’s only been a few days.”

“He employed people to ambush Malfoy. People who’d attacked Malfoy previously when he was on a case with _me_. Leverets had been _colluding_ with criminals, Robards.”

Robards pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Potter, don’t let conspiracies get to your head.”

“Just bloody summon Leverets in, or give me his address. This is an open case. _Sir_.”

Robards glared. “Wait a moment and I’ll give you his damn address then.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Robards snorted and ducked back inside his office.

The moment Robards came out again with the information, Harry was off.

*

 _If not the Unspeakables, then who?_ It wasn’t Leverets. But Draco knew at least one other person involved: Rene Aspler.

After leaving the Ministry, Draco apparated to her home and knocked on the door.

Apsler opened it, smiling politely. “Auror Malfoy. How may I help you?”

“Who hired you?”

The door slammed shut and wards sizzled in the air.

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

Draco spun round, wand drawn and levelled at three—mostly—unfamiliar wizards. The two on either side were wearing robes. _One_ of them had shot a blasting curse at Draco weeks before.

“You’ve made quite a lot of trouble for me,” the one in the middle said. _He_ had a smart muggle suit jacket, and his wand was held loosely in one pale hand. “Enjoying your stint as the bleeding pig for the Ministry?”

Draco moved his free hand inside his robes, eyes narrowing at the turn of phrase. “Who are you?”

The wizard smirked. “I’ll keep that to myself. How long have you been in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Malfoy?”

 _Mr. Bastard_ , Draco decided. “I suppose you already know the answer.”

Mr. Bastard’s smirk widened with a flash of even teeth. “Perceptive.” Something appeared on his other hand: a vial with red liquid. “Now riddle me this. What’s inside this bottle?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You’re quite slow to the A.K.”

Mr. Bastard’s eyes widened. “Of course not. That would be a crime.” His fingers wrapped around the bottle until it shattered. He moved his wand and the blood formed runes and sigils.

Draco’s body started to move towards him.

 _Oh, you bastard_.

Draco gritted his teeth, pulling himself back. Mr. Bastard drew a new rune and pain ripped across his flesh. His legs started moving once again.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Draco hissed.

“Now _that_ would also be a crime,” the wizard smirked. He moved his wand again, and Draco’s throat and mouth and chest all twisted.

Draco tried to clamp his mouth shut, but they were forced open, “Fuck _me_.”

Mr. Bastard smiled. “Perfect.” He turned to his right-hand wizard. “Ready?”

“Sir.” The man produced a muggle camera and pointed it towards Draco.

Draco’s wand hand had been forced down by his side, but his other hand was still inside his robes. His fingers curled slowly around a special vial.

“I am Draco Malfoy,” his mouth said, his face twisting into some unknown expression.

Draco’s thumb flicked open the lip of the vial.

“And I’m a master of _blood magic_. It’s so _easy_ to kill using it—”

Mr. Bastard narrowed his eyes, and Draco’s false words cut off. “What are you doing? A _demonstration_ for the camera?”

Draco sucked in a breath as the wizard loosened control on his mouth. “Answering _that_ would require an Imperio. And _that_ would be a crime.”

Mr. Bastards’ face twisted. With a jab, Draco’s hand came out of his robes. Blood spilled through the air.

“ _Stop that,_ ” Mr. Bastard hissed.

Draco sneered and twisted his hand in a mimicry of apparation. Potter’s blood shot a trail through the air.

*

Harry knocked continuously on Leverets’ door until he opened it.

“What do you want, Potter?”

Harry snapped a privacy charm around them. “Who did you work with, Leverets? Who where the ones who captured Malfoy for you?”

Leverets narrowed his eyes. “What’s this, Potter?”

“This is an _interrogation_. Bet you’re familiar with _them_. Why the fuck didn’t you just _arrest_ Malfoy instead of that damn stunt?”

“Big mistake, wasn’t it?” Leverets snarled.

“So _why?_ Why did _you_ take Malfoy’s blood?”

They both glared at each other.

“Come _on_ , Leverets—”

Leverets’ hand slashed out. “It was the damn _condition_. They told me the Unspeakables wanted it for their research. I wasn’t going to _kill_ Malfoy, I just had to _hold_ him. And given that Malfoy bleeds himself without dying _anyway—”_

“Who told you?”

“Avis Night,” Leverets grunted. “But I can’t give you a description. He was under Polyjuice.”

“You’ve been framed.”

Leverets scowled. “Of course not! I wouldn’t fall for something like that. I’m a _senior Auror_.”

“Then you _wanted_ to bleed Malfoy to death.”

Leverets’ lips pressed into a thin line.

“Shit.” Adrenalin spiked. Fake face—likely, fake name, too. Someone had it out for Malfoy.

Something tugged at Harry’s heart. A blood trail appeared right before his eyes, _pulling_ at him.

Harry didn’t hesitate and dived after the magic.

*

“Malfoy!”

Potter’s blood exploded with a _CRACK_ , and in its place was Harry Potter himself.

Potter rubbed his forehead. “Malfoy! Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Draco’s mouth said.

Potter turned sharply. “ _Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Protego!_ ”

Wizards scrambled, and in that second, Draco was able to yank out his knife and slit his palm. Runes and spells coalesced haphazardly, stumbling and mixing over each other.

The two lackey wizards immediately engaged Potter in a duel, while Mr. Bastard tried to take over Draco’s body again.

Draco bared his teeth in a grim smile as his own blood magic rose out. The lines of red circled back into him, pierced through his chest, and took control.

Mr. Bastard’s wand movements began sharper, his magic fighting against Draco’s. Draco grimaced.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Potter grunted as a spell hit him. His hand pressed against his side. “Malfoy!” Potter dashed closer. “ _Use my blood, dammit!_ ” He shot out a bloodied hand.

Draco grasped it with, bleeding palm against Potter’s blood.

“ _Confrigo!_ ” someone screamed.

But light had blossomed, pulsed, the sphere of pink growing around Draco and Potter. Mr. Bastard’s link snapped.

Vindication bubbled up Draco’s chest. He raised his free hand. His blood in the bastard’s grasp turned into pure magic, _Draco’s magic_.

“ _Stupefy_.”

Right against his skin, Mr. Bastard had no chance. He crumpled.

Potter leapt forward. “ _Incarcerous! Stupefy!_ ” he shot at the two other wizards.

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ” Draco shot for good measure. And at the muggle camera, he hissed, “ _Reducto_.”

Potter exhaled. “Fuck. What the fuck happened?”

Draco shrugged. “You need to take them back.”

“No,” Potter said.

Draco shot him a frown. “Pardon?”

“ _We’ll_ take them in. Together.” Potter grabbed Draco’s hand. “You’re an Auror too.”

“...I’ll take this guy then,” Draco said gruffly.

*

“Potter? Malfoy?” The guard at the DMLE lockups immediately came forward. “I’ll get three cells immediately!”

“Great, thanks,” Harry said, glancing at Malfoy at the corner of his eye. Malfoy seemed fine, but Harry would be happier of both of them took a blood replenisher soon.

Harry dumped his two guys into separate cells first before turning to Malfoy. “You done?”

“I’m waiting.”

Harry came over to Malfoy and peered pass the bars. Malfoy had arranged the wizard’s body so that his face was clearly visible. Harry looked back at Malfoy. “What happened?”

“He ambushed me at Rene Aspler’s house.” Malfoy’s voice dropped. “He used blood magic to put false words in my mouth.”

Harry’s eyes snapped back to the body. “Leverets said he spoke to someone named _Avis Night_. Someone who wanted _your_ blood.” Harry ran a hand through his hair and turned to Malfoy. “Merlin, you’re so—he was _controlling_ you!”

Malfoy smirked. “I call him Mr. Bastard.” He turned towards Harry. “Do you remember first year?”

Harry blinked. “Yeah.”

“Blood taken unwillingly is halved in its power. And blood taken unwillingly turns any spell _Dark_ by its very nature. Hence the outcome of drinking unicorn blood.”

Harry grimaced.

“Mr. Bastard here used tainted blood. He must have taken some while I was being moved to Leverets’ location. But there’s more. He didn’t count on _you_.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, eyes ducking away from Malfoy’s liquid silver gaze.

“Because _you_ gave me your blood willingly. I could control you like he did me. Like I made you apparate to my location. Except _you_ wouldn’t be able to break free of it. Think of it as an Imperio, tailored _just_ for you.” Malfoy licked his lips. “Are you scared?”

Harry reached out and took Malfoy’s hands. “Of you? Never.”

Malfoy pulled a face. Harry leaned in, intent on changing that expression.

“ _Ugh..._ ” came a groan within the cell.

Malfoy shifted away with a wry look. Harry pouted and turned to watch Avis Night/Mr. Bastard. His body was shifting, from black hair to dark brown.

Harry squinted, but he didn’t recognise the face. He glanced at Malfoy, but Malfoy didn’t appear to know either.

“Alright, what have gone and done _now_?” Robards stomped down the corridor. “I received the notification that you two had brought in three unconscious wizards.”

Harry bristled. “This wizard is damn guilty of _something._ He was using blood magic _on_ Malfoy.”

Robards’ eyes narrowed. “Move aside.” He stepped up to the cell. And hissed. “How in the world did you two manage to capture him?”

“By using my blood,” Malfoy drawled.

Robards shot Malfoy a narrow look.

“ _And_ with Potter’s.”

“I offered,” Harry smirked. “Who is he?”

Robards’ jaw tightened. “Someone who’s been evading the law for far too long.” He grimaced and glanced at Malfoy. “...Good work.” He stepped back, giving Harry and Malfoy a dismissive wave. “ _He_ falls into my jurisdiction. I’ll call you both for questioning later.”

*

Potter was glancing at Draco all through the short walk out of the DMLE holding cells back to the main department. They stopped at the junction between the offices and the way to the lifts.

“Malfoy—” Potter started.

“Oh, Auror Malfoy.” Aurors Willow and Wattle approached them.

Draco turned to face them. “Good afternoon.”

Wattle cringed. “I have to apologise, Malfoy. I’d inadvertently caused your suspension. And then I proceeded to do nothing about it. You’d simply moved the children to one of the safest locations they could be.”

“Yes.”

Draco paused, making Wattle and Willow become increasingly uncomfortable. Potter nudged him.

“But that is past now,” Draco said.

“Malfoy _will_ be back soon,” Potter said.

Wattle gave a wry smile and shook Draco’s hand. “Then I hope we can work together in the future.”

Draco nodded politely.

“So, you two heading to the pub with us?” Wattle asked.

“I must decline,” Draco said.

“Me neither,” Potter said.

“Oh, next time then,” Wattle said. She and Willow farewelled them and left.

Draco shot a suspicious look at Potter. “You did something.”

Potter shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. He turned on his heel and strode towards the lifts.

“Ugh, Malfoy! Wait up!”

Draco held the door open just a moment for Potter to squeeze into the packed lift. The Atrium was just as noisy with Ministry workers leaving at the end of the Friday.

Draco darted a glance at Potter before he took the exit to the street. Potter appeared a moment later.

Potter grinned. “You waited.”

“You would have hounded me to Malfoy Manor,” Draco said drily.

Potter held out his arm. “Come with me.”

Draco took it firmly. “Where are you taking me?”

“My place.”

With that, Potter side-alonged Draco away.

*

“You mean your bedroom.” Malfoy snorted, looking around. “It leaves much to be desired.

Oh _fuck_ , that pout of his mouth—

Harry grabbed Malfoy the scruff of his robes, reeled him in and kissed him. Malfoy kissed him back, before tugging Harry’s head away.

“Sorry,” Harry said, not sorry at all. “I _really_ wanted to kiss you back there at the lockups.”

“You _still_ haven’t told me what you did back there in the department,” Malfoy said. “Best I find out from _you_ , don’t you think?”

Harry sighed. “Don’t get mad. I’m organising a defence for you.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “Potter. Did you know that the _Unspeakables_ offered me a job? I was going to dangle _that_ in front of Robards until he capitulated.”

Harry bit his bottom lip, but he couldn’t stop the grin. “Ha, really? You’re so fucking amazing, Malfoy.”

Malfoy licked his lips, eyes dark. He placed a hand on Harry’s chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said. He pushed Harry back onto the bed.

Harry grunted when Malfoy slipped two fingers into his mouth. His breath quickened and his cock stiffened.

Malfoy leaned in. “But next time, don’t go about making me your pity project without my permission.” His other hand trailed down, brushing lightly against Harry’s bulge.

“ _Uhh_ ,” Harry lifted his hips into Malfoy’s hand, but the fucking prat pulled away.

“Understood?” Malfoy whispered. His fingers traced Harry’s teeth and pulled out.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry said. He met Malfoy’s gaze. “As long as you know that I’m _here_ if you need me.”

“You’re such a fucking Savior.”

Harry said nothing.

Malfoy’s jaw tightened.

Harry tugged him down for a kiss. Firm, but soft. Because Harry _meant what he said_ , and he wanted Malfoy to understand that too.

Malfoy’s lips were sweet, and there was a hint of apple when Harry breathed in. Harry’s hands roamed, fingering Malfoy’s silky hair, tracing down Malfoy’s chest.

Malfoy nipped Harry’s lips. He pushed Harry’s hands away, withdrawing from the kiss. His eyes were dark, a promise deep inside of them.

“Malfoy?”

“Don’t worry, Potter.” He shifted down Harry’s body, and straddled legs. Short work was made of Harry’s trousers, and then his hand was wrapped firm around Harry’s shaft. He tugged, twisted, looking up at Harry through his lashes, and _fuck_ Harry’s traitorous cock twitched in Malfoy’s hand.

Malfoy smirked. “Good?” He pinned Harry with his eyes, leaned down, and licked a hot, wet stripe up Harry’s cock.

Harry’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t look away. The way Malfoy’s hair fell over his forehead. The way Malfoy’s tongue teased Harry’s slit. The way Malfoy’s lips wrapped around his cock.

“Oh, fuck—” Harry’s hips lifted; he touched Malfoy’s hair. “Can I?”

Malfoy hummed, and both his hands pressed Harry’s hips firmly down into the bed. Then, he swallowed. Harry pulled his hands away from Malfoy’s hair lest he pull strands out, because— _fuck_ —

Harry gasped, moaned—the hot, wet heat; the slide of Malfoy’s tongue—and _shitshitshit_ even the slight scrape of teeth that Harry hadn’t known he would fucking fall apart on.

 _Harry_ choked when the tip of his cock hit the back of Malfoy’s throat. He could feel his balls drawing, his cock pulsing—he couldn’t thrust up, legs trapped under Malfoy’s body, hips barely twitching under Malfoy’s harsh hold.

He was entirely at Malfoy’s sweet, sweet mercy. Harry felt like he could cry when Malfoy’s mouth withdrew till only the tip of his cock was still in. “ _Malfoy_ , fuck—please—I’m so _fucking close_.”

Malfoy’s fingers dug into Harry’s hips, hard. One hand fondled Harry’s balls. Malfoy’s mouth went down, swallowed. Harry groaned—it was impossibly warmer and tighter.

And when Malfoy growled, the tone, the vibration, the fucking _command_ , went right through Harry’s cock. There was nothing that Harry could do but come uncontrollably down Malfoy’s throat, Malfoy’s name a cry on his lips.

Malfoy sucked harder.

“ _Oh Merlin_.”

There was _no way_ Harry could come any more. He collapsed back onto the bed, utterly spent.

Malfoy shifted to his knees and pulled out his hard cock. He spat on his hand—and fuck, could Harry see traces of his own come?—and started tugging his cock over Harry.

“Going to make you _pretty_ , Potter,” he grunted. Malfoy’s cheeks were flushed pink, and his eyes traced Harry’s chest to his face.

“Do it,” Harry urged.

“ _Fuck._ ” Malfoy groan as white come spewed from his cock and painted over Harry’s Auror shirt.

Harry looked down, and then looked back up at Malfoy, smiling lazily. “Hm, good.” He reached out for Malfoy and tugged him down onto the bed next to him.

“Are you going to stay? I can cook dinner.” He placed a hand on Malfoy’s hip. “If you stay long enough, I’ll pop out to get some flowers.”

Malfoy gave him a baleful look. The sharp prickling of a cleaning charm followed immediately after. “If you do so half naked, I might be tempted.”

Harry grinned. “Done.”

There was one more thing he wanted to ask…

“Oh, just spit it out,” Malfoy jabbed him. A hand reached out and captured Harry’s chin, moving his head to face Malfoy. “What is it, Potter?”

Harry pressed his lips together.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “ _Potter..._ ” Fingers were reaching up towards Harry’s mouth.

“Ugh—do you think you could call me Harry?”

Malfoy blinked. Frowned.

“Uh, unless you _like_ calling me Potter more but, everyone calls me Potter at _work_ and—” Harry shut up when Malfoy’s fingers touched his lips in a soft gesture for silence.

“Only if you call me Draco.”

  


*

  


_One Week Later_

  


Harry was walking down one of the DMLE corridors, back to his office, when he saw him again. There was an immediate spike of happiness, but Harry tried to be professional given the setting, so he nodded in greeting, and said, “Good morning. _Auror_ Malfoy?”

Draco was dressed in red Auror robes, neat and smooth and _perfect._ There was a smirk on his face, and a file under his arm. “I’m back, Auror Potter.”

Harry grinned. “I can see that. What happened with Robards’ guy?”

Draco pursed his lips. “He was behind the Hemslock case and the child trafficking case, among others. Apparently he was _tired_ of me using blood magic to break up his operations.”

Harry gave a grim smile. “Using blood magic on you backfired for him.” Harry looked pointedly at the file. “What’s that?”

“Ah. I have a case.” Draco raised one eyebrow, eyes glinting. “Would you like to work with me?”

Harry pursed his lips, rubbed his chin.

Draco’s eyebrow raised even higher.

“ _Only_ if you work with me on _my_ cases.”

Draco took out Harry’s hand and shook it firmly. “Done.”

  


  


_The End_

  


  


###  _Coda_

_It was an open secret in the Auror Department who were the best at Tracking Persons. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter._

_And it was an open secret how they did it: an item belonging to the lost or the dead, a knife and blood magic. With Draco Malfoy’s blood._

_What they didn’t know...was that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter used their blood together._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought ending on Chapter Number 7 (a special number in the HP verse) would be fitting.
> 
> [Fun fact: Blood Red Iron was supposed to end in chapter 6, but I decided to add another chapter to give a more relaxed and thorough ending. So I hope you liked this chapter!]
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading, and an extra thanks to those who commented along the way! I was pleasantly surprised about the reception to this.
> 
>  
> 
> Firstly, a shout out to the [HP Wizard Names generator](https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/hp-wizard-names.php) 😂
> 
>  
> 
> Next, I have some thematic recommendations and inspiration notes:
> 
>   1. Blood Red Iron really the theme-ish continuation of [Stronger (Unbroken) (( _REMADE_ )) ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904881) which involves blood in bonding magic.
>   2. In Chapter 6, Harry mentions that “I’m aging” in response to Draco’s question as to whether or not he is the Master of Death. This comes from [Life After Death by Aelys_Althea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238640/chapters/30282432) that has a Master of Death! Harry.
>   3. In an older draft of this chapter, I had the lines: 
>
>> Sacrificed blood was temporary. Sacrificed limbs had lasting power. Sacrificed lives were the ultimate.  
>    
>  The Bloodless Murderer had only used the _blood_ of her five victims. She had _wasted_ their bodies. She had wasted their lives.
> 
> This didn’t make it in to the final version, but it’s based on the fic [ Ashes to Ashes by greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18790741) (an original M/M with sacrificial and blood magic).
>   4. [Narcissa Militant by Lomonaaeren](https://archiveofourown.org/series/759120) (currently a work in progress) features a lot of dark magic in general cast by a BAMF!Narcissa.
>   5. The Stonehenge location, and the concept of purebloods pouring blood on the earth is inspired by the (work in progress) [Never Grow A Wishbone by ShanaStoryteller](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017603/chapters/18355225).
>   6. The emphasis on consent and non-coercion in blood sacrifice comes from the [HP Consent Fest](https://hpconsentfest.tumblr.com) in general.
>   7. And finally, if you liked the case fic element of Blood Red Iron (that was completely on accident, I tell you), then there are [some recommended fics here](https://yetanotherdrarrylist.tumblr.com/tagged/case%20fic).
> 

> 
>   
> Penultimately, [the **artwork!!!** for the _end_ of Blood Red Iron (and the imaginary continuation of Harry’s and Draco’s lives) is here!](https://bafflinghaze.tumblr.com/post/185344898688/blood-red-iron-it-was-an-open-secret-in-the-auror)
> 
>  
> 
> And _finally_ , thank you again for reading!


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